


The New Posh and Becks

by mistresscurvy



Series: The New Posh and Becks [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Coming Out, Football Player Louis, Football | Soccer, Long Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2016 is a big year for solo artist Liam Payne. After his amazing experience on X Factor, releasing his own album and touring with Little Mix seems like the height of success. Then he meets Arsenal midfielder Louis Tomlinson at a charity event, and suddenly everything else fades into the background.</p><p>Also featuring Zayn as Liam's stylist, Niall as an Arsenal trainer, and Harry as himself if he'd gone on X Factor in 2013 and won the whole damn thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Posh and Becks

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the absolutely amazing art [liloson](http://liloson.tumblr.com/) created for it [here!](http://liloson.tumblr.com/post/77340640589/the-new-posh-and-becks-by-mistresscurvy-2016-is) SO INCREDIBLE. 
> 
> Thank you to harriet_vane for the cheerleading, olivia and amazonziti for a brilliant beta, and lokte for the amazing and speedy Britpick—this fic would not have happened without all of you. All remaining mistakes are my own.

_April_

Liam was stood with Harry at the gala afterparty, sipping a glass of champagne and trying to remind himself that he belonged here, when Louis bloody Tomlinson suddenly appeared in front of them. "Haz!"

"Hey, Tommo," Harry said, leaning in for a tight hug. "Thought you'd be here tonight."

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," said Louis Tomlinson, the great shining hope of English football, and England's best chance to avoid embarrassing themselves entirely at Euro 2016 this summer.

"And this is my brilliant friend Liam," Harry continued, clapping Liam on the shoulder. 

"Of course," Louis Tomlinson said, smiling at Liam and holding out his hand for a shake. "I'm Louis."

I know, Liam thought but thankfully didn't say. Who didn't know who Louis was? This was an ever more frequent occurrence in his life, Liam meeting brilliant people whom he'd admired for years. That was strange enough on its own, but it was even odder when they seemed to know who Liam was as well. He still never quite trusted it, but Louis was either sincere or very good at faking it. Liam shook his hand and tried not to seem as overawed as he was. 

"Hang tight for a mo, I'm getting another round. Anything for you both?" Harry asked, pointing his hands at each of them in turn. He raised his eyebrows even when Liam shook his head and gestured with his still mostly full glass. "Be back in a second."

Suddenly Liam was left alone with the greatest English footballer of his generation. It was all a bit much, really. He was desperate to fill the silence and finally settled on what he hoped was a safe enough question: "How do you know Harry?" he asked, forcing himself not to drink down his entire glass of champagne just for something to do. 

Louis hummed before answering, "We met at some party in London a few years back. Can't actually remember whose party or where it was, to be honest. All I do recall was him challenging me to a kickabout the following afternoon, which was rather ballsy for someone as completely rubbish at football as he is."

The image of Harry attempting to pass the ball successfully to any professional footballer, let alone one of Louis's quality, was both absurd and slightly humiliating to even imagine. But then, it was Harry they were talking about. The man had absolutely no shame at all. "Sounds like something Harry would do," Liam agreed. 

Louis smiled and took a sip of his champagne. "He then proposed a sing-off to even the score, and we've been friends since."

"We met when I was on X Factor and he came back to mentor," Liam offered, just in case Louis really didn't have any idea who he'd been left with. He hated assuming anyone should know who he was, and referencing X Factor was usually enough to spare the other person from having to ask any leading questions. 

Usually when he said it people didn't look as bemused as Louis did, though. "I know, I watched your whole series."

"You did?" Liam asked, a little shocked but trying not to show it. 

"Just because I play football doesn't mean I don't pay attention to anything else," Louis continued, looking at him over his glass as he took another drink. 

"No, I didn't mean—Arsenal are having quite the season," Liam said awkwardly, desperate to shift the conversation. "Down to the wire between you and Liverpool for the League and all."

Thankfully, Louis seemed willing to follow his lead. "Yeah, should be an exciting final two matches."

"Bit of an understatement, that. Been some time since we've had to wait until May to see who's winning the silverware," Liam said. 

"Hopefully we can pull it off in the end," Louis said. "Won't be easy, and Liverpool could still finish top. We might need a bit of help from Man City on that last Sunday."

"I think you'll do it, with the way you've been playing lately. Nothing getting past your back four these days," Liam said, suddenly unable to shut his mouth and letting every sort of babble slip past. 

"Do you support us, then?" Louis asked curiously.

"Ah," responded Liam intelligently. "Well. I'm a rather new supporter? To be honest, I'm a bit at a loss for a club in the top flight at the moment, being from Wolverhampton." He accepted Louis's nod of condolence with good graces; it'd been years since his hometown club had been worth much of anything. "But since moving to London they've— _you've_ become something of my adopted club."

"Well, I grew up a United supporter," Louis said with a conspiratorial air. "But I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal," Liam said happily. As usual, conversation seemed to be so much easier when it wasn't focused on Liam. He smiled back at Louis and tried to think of what to say next. Asking him where he grew up seemed a bit forward, and he could tell the general area from Louis's accent, anyway. Besides, if he were a proper Gunners supporter he'd already know that plus a dozen other biographical facts about his background, so it seemed rather rude not to know it, in any event.

Luckily he was saved from having to fumble his way forward by Harry coming up behind him, resting his chin on Liam's shoulder and wrapping an arm round his waist. "And what are we discussing here?"

"Football," Louis said, smirking at Harry.

Harry made a sound of deep judgment and boredom. "Always football, with this one."

"Well, it is something of a specialty for him," Liam said reasonably, sneaking another look at Louis. It was a good point, though. Why was he trying to talk football with an actual player of the game? He could contribute to a debate with his mates back home, in a pinch, but it wasn't like he had anything of worth to say about it to Tommo himself. 

"Yes, well, we don't spend all our time discussing music, do we?" Harry pointed out. 

"I don't know, how many different albums have you shoved at me over the past three years, insisting that I had to hear this new band?" Louis countered. 

"He does that to you as well?" Liam asked, delighted that he wasn't the only one getting that treatment from Harry. 

Louis ignored Harry's put-upon sigh and said, "Every time I see him, there's another new band I have to listen to, or a next album, or something. The latest one from Bastille wasn't bad, I'll grant you."

"It's a masterpiece," Harry muttered. 

"And you've got a good mate there, he made sure to give me yours, as well," Louis continued, smiling at Liam. 

Oh. "Harry, you didn't have to—"

"Yes I did, it's a bloody good album, and you're my mate," Harry cut him off. 

It was one thing for Harry to tweet about Liam's album to all fifteen million of his followers, but somehow it felt different for Harry to be handing out free copies of his new CD like it was a pressing he had made in university or something. He was about to say so when Louis added, "Definitely my favourite album from someone off of X Factor since this wanker's debut." 

"Oh," Liam said dumbly. "Cheers, then." He lifted his drink at Louis, suddenly feeling even more shy. Apparently Louis hadn't been being polite when he'd said he knew who Liam was. 

"Further proof of your excellent taste," Harry said, clearly well on his way to being off his head on drink. Pretty soon he'd be on top of one of the tables, serenading a floral centerpiece. Likely the resulting photos splashed all over the internet would only further excite his fanbase and cause his next tour to sell out in two minutes rather than three. Liam didn't understand fame at all. 

He watched as Harry slinked his way over to pick up another drink and then change course toward a current hot young thing, rumoured to be slated as the first Doctor played by an actor of colour. There'd be a lot of tabloid speculation over that conversation. 

Shaking his head, Liam turned back to Louis, who was also watching Harry's progress with a bit of a smirk on his face. "I don't know how he does it," Liam said honestly. 

"It's a gift, clearly," Louis said. "No use lamenting it. Hey, I don't know if you'll be in London or off on tour someplace in two weeks, but if you'd fancy seeing the last match at the Emirates on the final Sunday, I could get you a ticket." 

"I—yeah," Liam stammered out. "I'll be in town! I mean, if you're sure...?"

"Of course," Louis said easily. Liam had no idea how people could be so confident. "I'll have it sent over to you." 

Liam nodded. Then he heard his mum's voice in his head insisting that such a gesture demanded reciprocity, which overruled his surety that this was a ridiculous offer to make: "If you'd like to see Little Mix at any of their shows this next month, I could get you tickets. Since I'm opening for them and all," he added quickly, in case it seemed like he was offering seats for a random concert. When Louis looked like he didn't know what to say, Liam attempted to clarify by saying, "But I don't know if you get a chance to see many shows, what with your schedule." That didn't clear up anything, he was sure. Miserably he waited for a response. 

"That'd be lovely," Louis said finally, still staring at Liam with that odd expression. "Actually, if it's not too much trouble, my little sisters would absolutely die to meet Little Mix. I could get the tickets myself, of course, or ask Harry, but it'd make me seem much cooler to arrange it through you."

"Of course," Liam said instantly. "That'd be no problem at all, I'm sure the girls would be happy to meet them, they're absolutely brilliant with fans, just lovely."

"They'll want to meet you as well, hope that's alright," Louis said. "Just make sure to tell them what a close personal friend you are of mine, they've long ago stopped being impressed by either Harry or my boring job. But you're the hot new thing, so."

"Hope I won't disappoint, then," Liam said lightly. "I'm not exactly exciting, no matter what Harry might say. It's a pretty great show, though." Having people scream his name while he sang made some small amount of sense to him, but he'd never understand why people found him shopping even remotely interesting, or why fans might want to meet him at a show. Paul and Zayn said it was only likely to get worse, but Liam hoped they were wrong. 

"I'll let the girls know. It'll be the five of us, then, if that's alright," Louis said, smiling a little. 

"Sure," Liam said, smiling back. Well, at least he hadn't made a complete twat of himself this evening. Liam would count it a win.

* * *

_May_

The final match of the season was the first time Liam had ever been to the Emirates Stadium. It was a proper modern pitch, screaming of money and investment in a way that Wolves never had. But the crowd was the same, with the same kind of nervous anticipation, that anxious pride that was ready to flip over to agony and despair and recrimination if things didn't go the Gunners' way. It felt familiar and a bit like going home, for all that he was in North London and not the Midlands.

The crowd's reaction to him was a bit of a throwback as well—or at least their lack of reaction was. There was the odd fan who approached him for a picture, and he felt more than one person look at him for a bit longer than normal, trying to place his face. But for the most part, the fact that there was a random former X Factor contestant on the grounds merely emphasised how important this match really was, rather than distracted from it.

It was quite nice, really.

He didn't mind his fans when they did come up to him, of course, especially after a concert and the like. And he'd spent enough time with Harry out and about to know that the sort of attention he got was nowhere near as bad as it could be. But there was something freeing about being in the middle of a crowd that was wholly consumed with something completely unrelated to him.

He snapped out of his contemplation when his dad shouldered his way through the crowd, holding two cups of tea for them. "Alright then, son?" his dad asked, eyes bright with excitement. 

Liam smiled and took his tea. "This way, I think," he said, leading him down through the stand.

The seats Louis had got them were appallingly nice, on the club level right along the Arsenal side. The visitors end was off to their left, Fulham's supporters doing their best to make their presence known. Their efforts were almost entirely drowned out by the collective chanting of the Arsenal supporters; practically the whole stadium was singing in unison, the sound filling up and reverberating around the pitch. Liam had a moment to wonder what it would be like to perform in a place like this, with the communal swell and roar of the crowd. It was hard to imagine, even after his success on X Factor had gone beyond what anyone could have expected (save perhaps his parents).

Liam had never been to a match so big before, the tension and excitement rippling through the crowd. Liverpool sat one point behind Arsenal in the table; if Man City managed to beat Liverpool at Anfield today, the title was safe for Arsenal. But if Liverpool were to win, the pressure would be on Arsenal to win as well, and even a draw for the Gunners could prove to be disastrous. There were so many possible outcomes it made Liam a bit dizzy to hold them all straight in his head. 

Soon the two teams came out for the pre-match formalities, each player holding the hand of a little girl or boy, and Liam forgot to think about the points. His eyes were caught on Louis, looking utterly in his element, chatting with the little girl he was holding hands with as if he wasn't walking onto the pitch for the biggest match of his career. When he looked up into the crowd, his face was radiant. 

"There's Tommo, then!" his dad exclaimed, pointing to Louis as they walked out, and Liam nodded, unable to look away. "Can't believe you met him at a charity do."

"He's one of Harry's friends, we met through him," Liam tried to explain, his face flushing.

"Don't see Harry here today though, do you," his dad said proudly. "Course you know Louis Tomlinson, what am I saying."

Liam decided that attempting to explain Harry's tour schedule to his dad once again wasn't worth the time it would take; instead he watched the players doing last minute warm-ups and stretches before they got into their positions for kickoff.

The truth was that Liam really wasn't sure exactly why Louis had offered him tickets. He had quite expected that the invitation had been a bit of banter to liven up a boring charity obligation, rather than a sincere offer. But then two days later Liam had got a text from an unknown number stating _hey Liam, it's Louis Tomlinson, got your number off Harry,_ and that was that. They hadn't texted often during the two weeks leading up to today, but Louis had made it perfectly clear that his offer of tickets had been sincere, which left Liam scrambling to get the best house seats he could for the first night at the O2 for Louis and his sisters in three weeks' time.

He finally gave his dad what he wanted. "Yeah, I know Tommo now," he said, almost blushing at the look of pride his dad shot him.

"Course you do. Now let's hope he's as hard a worker as you are out there," his dad said, just as the whistle went and the crowd roared for the first touch of the match.

 _Hard worker_ didn't come close to capturing what Louis was out there on the pitch.

Liam knew that the sort of fluid, instinctive play that Arsenal midfielders were famous for must come from hours and hours of training; but it was hard to imagine that work now, when each touch and connection looked effortless and inevitable, like there was no other end result for each play. It was a shock rather than standard when the Fulham defence were able to break up a pass or, even rarer, when an Arsenal player mis-kicked a ball.

It reminded Liam of why it was a game that they were said to _play,_ because it felt like that, like joy and excitement in each touch. And then Wilshere scored the first goal of the match at the twenty-third minute, a brilliant finish after a series of gorgeous touches between him, Louis and Özil, and the stadium exploded in celebration.

"Now there's a goal!" Liam's dad shouted in his ear as they stood with the crowd, watching the celebration on the corner of the pitch, Tommo and Wilshere on their knees and wrapped up in a hug.

Liam nodded. They weren't in the clear yet, needing to add another goal to feel that the game was safe. But the crowd was striving with the players now, the first goal making the result they needed seem so close. Liam felt himself get swept up in every touch of the ball in Fulham's half, waiting to see if this would be the play that secured the Gunners' victory. He found himself gripping his dad's sleeve when Fulham led a counterattack into Arsenal's half, the visiting club determined to spoil the party if they possibly could.

He was right to be worried, Clint Dempsey somehow finding space among Arsenal's back four and firing off a shot that had too much power for Szczęsny to stop, the keeper getting a few fingers on it but unable to keep it out of the goal. Suddenly the match was level again, and Arsenal were in danger once more.

There were a few golden opportunities wasted during the rest of the first half—an open shot from Walcott that he shanked high, and a header by Giroud off a corner that just went wide of the post. By the time the first half whistle went, the crowd responded like the Gunners were down three or four goals rather than just one away from a win. Liam felt it in his gut, a deep fear and anxiety that was for himself and all the fans and also Louis, almost more than anything else. It was too much to take, really.

"They'll find the back of the net again in the second half," Liam's dad said with all the easy confidence of a new supporter.

"Yeah, if they don't cock it all up," said a man behind them, and from the grunt of agreement from his companion he wasn't the only one there steeling himself for bitter disappointment.

The subs were all out on the pitch during the halftime, keeping warm so that they'd be more or less ready for any second half substitutions. Liam watched them with only half an ear for the genial conversation his dad was having with the men behind them. This was a pressure he could not even imagine. He knew what it was like to compete for himself, to walk out on stage and have to prove himself to a new audience, convince them that he was worth their attention. But he'd never had a team of lads relying on him like this, needing his best from him and paying the price if he didn't give it to them. Nor had he ever had hundreds of thousands of people whose own happiness depended on his performance. It was an awe-inspiring responsibility, one that made him feel slightly ill even to consider.

He saw none of those nerves in Tommo when the teams stepped back out onto the pitch for the start of the second half. His body language was loose and open, and the way that he played, the way that the entire interlocking Arsenal midfield flowed together from the first touch, suddenly made Liam certain that they would get it done. 

Liam tried to track the movements of everyone on the Arsenal side, but his attention kept getting caught by Louis's command of the ball, the way he seemed to be orchestrating each major push forward, the immediate regrouping of the attack when the defence shut down the attempts of Fulham's forwards. The build and pace of the play filled his chest with joy, heart beating faster and entire body focused on their efforts. When Tommo neatly slotted away a goal in the lower left corner after a series of one touches that left Liam feeling breathless, it was the most remarkable moment in sport he'd ever seen. It was like a dance, one that must have been choreographed in the minds of every child playing a bit of kickabout in their back gardens, imagining glory. 

He and his dad grabbed each other's shoulders, identical expressions of joy on their faces, and turned back to roar their satisfaction at the pitch. There was a cluster of Arsenal players all piled on top of Louis, celebrating the biggest goal scored for an Arsenal side in more than ten years. They finally let him up as they all jogged back to their positions for the re-start, Tommo kissing his fist three times and holding up his index finger to the crowd, likely to his family or girlfriend or both. 

A few minutes later there was a roar that reverberated around the stands even while nothing seemed to happen on the pitch. Liam had a few seconds of confusion before one of the men behind him yelled out, "City have gone ahead!" He joined in with the crowd's roaring rendition of the North Bank chant, even the players on the pitch seeming to realise that the League was comfortably in their grasp. 

The rest of the match was nervy but never truly in doubt, Walcott scoring a lovely chip in at the seventy-eighth minute for insurance, and for the final ten minutes of the match the entire stadium was nearly delirious with joy, scarves held high throughout the non-stop chanting. Louis was subbed in the eighty-fifth minute, which Liam felt was a bit unfair until he realised it gave the crowd a chance to applaud him separately as he jogged toward the bench. He acknowledged the crowd before he was wrapped up in hug by Wenger, a display of affection Liam couldn't remember having seen from the manager before. 

The final whistle was Liam's cue to really breathe again, now that there was nothing that could happen to take the victory away. He couldn't stop beaming, watching as the Gunners jumped all over each other and shook hands with the Fulham players, who were now offering their sincere congratulations. Mostly he watched Louis make his way through his entire team, his face taken over by his grin, embracing each of the players one by one with a firm hug and cup to the back of the head. 

"Won't forget seeing this any time soon," Liam's dad said in his ear as the players were presented with the league trophy, crowd shouting its approval and satisfaction. 

Liam shook his head, still amazed, watching as some of the best players in the world celebrated their victory. His focus was mainly for the player he improbably could claim as a friend, or at the very least as an acquaintance, and he marvelled again that his life had led him here. He thought about Louis's goal, and how he felt almost like he'd been a part of it himself, just for having witnessed it. 

"Absolutely incredible, that was," he said to no one in particular, and got a friendly shoulder-clap for it from one of the men nearby, hardly a stranger anymore after they'd shared a victory like this.

* * *

Once they were out of the stadium and away from the crush of the crowd, ears still buzzing from the noise of sixty thousand voices united as one, Liam pulled out his phone to text Louis. Every imaginable word of congratulations seemed hopelessly inadequate for the occasion, but in the end Liam just told the truth.

_Hey mate u were brillianttttttttttttt out there!! well deserved win by the gunners and by you. congratulations and enjoyyyyyyyyyyy it!_

He said goodbye to his dad, hugging him tight before making his way to the tube to go to his tour rehearsal—away from one fantasy and back to an even weirder one. 

He didn't think that Louis would actually respond to his text—Liam knew from his own experience on X Factor that Louis was likely getting texts from every person he'd ever met, and he had no doubt that Louis's social circle was far wider than his own—but two days later he got a reply. 

_Cheers, mate !! Glad I made your trip up there worth your while. Expect you'll return the favour at the O2 soon :)_

* * *

_June_

As crazy as his life was these days, with the press and the unrelenting schedule and the need to keep his presence up in the public eye, there was little chance of Liam forgetting that it was worth it. That was especially true while he was on tour and performing five nights out of seven; those moments on stage made everything else fade into the background. 

He had feared he might be lonely on his own after the complete insanity of the X Factor tour, the entire cast all crammed onto a bus together for weeks on end. But Little Mix and their dancers and band and crew never left him wanting for company, and for more quiet evenings there was always Zayn. The list of things he would never be able to repay Harry for was long and comprehensive, but introducing him to Zayn was at the very top.

"You need a stylist for your first album, and I know just the bloke for you," Harry had said, steamrolling over any objections Liam might have had. Liam hadn't known what to expect, given the whirlwind of Harry's own fashion choices, but a soft-spoken, self-proclaimed nerd from Bradford wasn't it. 

"This may be an odd question, like, but who's your favourite superhero? It'll give me a sense of the direction I should take for your look," Zayn said on their first meeting. Liam would have been positive he was taking the mickey were it not for the utter sincerity in his voice. 

"Well, that's a hard one," Liam answered after a moment's consideration. "Because I'm quite torn between Iron Man and Batman."

"Hmmm." Zayn looked at him thoughtfully. "That's a definite start, then." Suddenly Liam went from wearing his best Wolverhampton approximation of a teen idol's wardrobe to dressing in leather jackets and dirty vests and jeans and boots, the closest thing to cool he'd ever been. And for night, it was all black on black, waistcoats and buttoned up sophistication. 

"You're Tony in the workshop during the day, and Bruce out on the town in the evening. Or Tony Stark, billionaire, rather than Tony, best friend to robots."

"This is sick," Liam said, staring at himself in the mirror, feeling over how the black jacket fit the line of his body perfectly, making him look long and lean. 

"You really like it?" Zayn asked, voice a bit shy. 

Liam turned to stare at him. "Like it? Mate, you've managed to turn me into a pop star superhero," he said, breaking out into a huge grin. 

Zayn smiled and ducked his head. "Well, I had good material to work with."

From that point on, Zayn was a part of Liam's team (and Liam was sure that he'd never get used to having a 'team' at all); he was there for Liam's entire headlining tour through the UK, he and Paul the rocks Liam clung to. They were both there with him now on the Little Mix tour, which was a spectacle on a scale Liam had never seen before. It was actually pretty nice to be in the midst of such chaos again—it took a lot of the pressure off him. His second single was selling well, the radio play was solid, and Little Mix's audiences seemed more than happy to cheer for him. It all gave him a bit of breathing room.

The fact that it wasn't his show alone that sold out the O2 for three nights running didn't make it any less amazing to be performing at the O2. His mum and dad and sisters would be there for the first night, as well as loads of people he didn't know who would scream his name anyway. And assuming there hadn't been any change after Louis's last text, he and his sisters would be there tonight as well. 

Liam kind of doubted that Louis would be able to make it. Or he wasn't counting on it, at least. It seemed pretty incredible that Louis would take time out from his training for the Euros to come see a concert. So it was a bit of a shock to get a text from Louis about thirty minutes before he went on stage. 

_My sisters and I have got settled, thanks for the amazing seats. Have a feeling it's about to get even louder in here._

Liam smiled and quickly shot off a response. 

_you've got no idea mate!_

_Think it'll be louder than at the Emirates??_

_I can guarantee itll be higher pitched aha_

The kick of adrenaline he got from a simple text exchange was ridiculous, but there it was. It wasn't the first time he'd started to get a crush on somebody he had no business fancying, but it'd been a while, and Louis was more spectacularly out of his league than most. Liam shook himself a bit, loosening up his shoulders, about to try some breathing exercises he'd learnt on X Factor, but before he'd even started, Zayn found him for a final touch up on his hair and he immediately calmed down. The soft pull of Zayn's fingers through Liam's hair as he styled it was definitely a part of what did it, but mostly it was Zayn himself. "Just go out there and sing," Zayn said, his low voice soothing Liam's nerves.

Once he stepped out on stage his worry about an inconvenient crush fell away immediately, his awareness only for his performance and connecting with the whole crowd; he didn't really have any attention to spare, even for his family or a famous footballer. A lot of the people in the crowd had come for Little Mix, he knew that, but if he could make the wait a bit more enjoyable, so much the better for them all.

It was a solid show. Liam was locked in with his band, and there were a few very enthusiastic pockets of fans who were clearly there for him as well as for Little Mix. Perhaps some of them were there just for him. He felt selfish even thinking that some of his fans might not love Little Mix as much as they loved him; but it was still sweet, the idea that there might be people who were here just for him alone.

He was more jittery than usual during Little Mix's set, standing sidestage for the entire time just to work out some of his energy. The crew were watching him as he danced along to Move and the other massive hits off Salute, but he didn't care. Sometimes he thought about what it would be like to have a cast of dancers backing him up, a huge production like this, but he wasn't sure whether his audience would follow him in that direction, or if it was even his style. But nothing was stopping him from enjoying his vantage point while on tour with them. 

He did remember to find Paul when Little Mix came off stage before their first encore. "Everything's all set for the crew coming backstage after the show, yeah?" he asked. From the way Paul rolled his eyes, he knew he was meddling a bit, but it was hard not to be concerned about everything. 

"Yes, Liam, we've all done our jobs and everyone who needs passes has them. Especially Tommo," Paul said indulgently. 

"No, I know you would, I just. I wouldn't want there to be a problem that I could have prevented if I was only paying better attention," Liam tried to explain. 

If anything that just made Paul seem both grumpier and more fond of him. "No one who's ever met you would think that, kid," Paul said before getting him in a headlock. "Now go find Zayn, maybe he'll listen to your worries."

Liam didn't think so; or at least, Zayn would sit with him while Liam worked out all the things he had to keep track of, but that wasn't exactly listening. That was providing a blank wall for Liam to talk at, something that wouldn't judge him but also wouldn't wind him up further. 

Liam should go find Zayn. 

Twenty minutes later he was sat in his dressing room, listening to Zayn explain his vision for Liam's next tattoo — "Something curving all the way over your shoulders" (Liam wasn't convinced) — when there was a knock on the door. "Come on in!" he shouted, standing up to greet his family. 

But it wasn't them at all, it was Louis Tomlinson stood there, smiling at him. Liam felt a sudden jolt in his stomach, an upturn of the nerves that had been threatening to overtake him all night, and he thought, _Oh._

"Thought I'd come by to see you, since my sisters are currently quietly breaking down over meeting Little Mix," Louis said, grinning sharply. From the rather loud conversation Liam could hear from all the way down the hall, Liam thought things must be going quite well for Louis's sisters. 

Liam's heart was beating too fast and his palms were sweaty and he suddenly couldn't think at all, not with Louis looking at him like that. "No problem at all, of course! Ah. How did you enjoy the show?" Liam asked, immediately regretting it. Nothing like soliciting a compliment right off the bat, Payne. 

If Louis noticed his rudeness, he certainly didn't comment on it. "Oh, it was brilliant. Never seen a pop show as good as the girls did. And obviously you were incredible," he said with a quick wink. 

"So pleased to hear that, cheers," Liam said almost robotically, trying to let his mind work on autopilot, since his body was clearly not. He rubbed his palms on his jeans and attempted to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "Always happy to know I've made a fan happy. I mean. Not that you're just a normal fan, of course, but—"

"It's alright, your friends can be fans, too. I've learnt that by now," Louis said, bailing him out again.

It was a relief when Zayn finally stepped in and saved Liam from his own awkwardness. "Don't know how you could be a friend of either of you without also being a fan," Zayn said, mostly to Louis but with a bit of a nudge for Liam. "I'm Zayn, by the way."

"Oh god, yes, sorry, I'm rubbish at introductions," Liam said, face heating up. He was a proper mess. "This is Zayn."

"I'd caught that part, yes," Louis said cheerfully, holding out a hand for Zayn to shake. "I'm Louis."

"I'm Liam's stylist, and don't mind him, he's always like this after a show." Zayn was a good friend. The greatest friend, really, even if he was also a bit of a liar.

"I totally understand, I'm basically worthless after a match. Takes me at least three hours before I'm fit for anything other than eating or staring at a wall," Louis said. He eyed Liam for a moment, gaze sweeping over his face and then down his body to his toes, and what little equilibrium Liam had found vanished. "What sort of stylist are you, then?"

"Ah, I do a bit of it all, really. Hair, clothes, tattoos, the whole package. I think of myself as an artist for the body," Zayn said, the sincerity so thick it was almost cloying. 

Louis gave a little laugh. "You should get that on your business cards, mate," he said in much the same tone. 

"Nah, mate, I'm having it done as a tattoo, much easier that way," Zayn replied immediately. 

"You're a man with a plan, I can see that," Louis said, voice serious even as his eyes were laughing. Of course Zayn would get on with Louis Tomlinson in an instant. Liam didn't even know why he was surprised. 

"I only caught it on the telly, but Liam told me you were smashing a few weeks back against Fulham," Zayn said then, and Liam immediately mentally retracted all nice things he had ever thought about Zayn. 

"Ah, cheers, then. Can't take all the credit, of course, all the lads played a complete game that day," Louis said. But he looked quite pleased for all that, and Liam suddenly wondered if his single text on the match had been enough of a reaction to one of the best displays of sport Liam had ever seen. 

Then Zayn said, "From the way Liam described it, there was practically no one else on the pitch that day," and Liam was very grateful indeed that he had been so circumspect with his direct praise.

"Well, I think that's only natural, to focus on a player you've actually met. We always notice our friends more than strangers," Louis said. 

"Yes, exactly, like I'll always notice Harry in a crowd before anyone else," Liam said quickly. This was completely normal, and not at all a Louis-specific thing. Absolutely. 

Both Zayn and Louis laughed. "Mate, I think that's just Harry, I don't think you can really base anything off always noticing him," Zayn said. 

"I don't know how he does it, he just glides through a crowd, acting exactly as he pleases, and somehow everyone thinks that's so charming," Louis said, shaking his head. 

"I think. I think it's that he seems like a friend to everyone, but not the boring sort you'd have round to watch a film on a Saturday night, but the kind who would see the best parts of you, and make it seem interesting. Like a mirror for everything we want to be," Liam said, his mouth running away with him yet again. He tried to meet Louis's gaze, not falter in it, but in the end he had to look away. 

"I never really thought about it that way," Louis said finally. 

Liam shrugged. "I think a lot about a lot of things," he said, mentally wincing at himself even as the words left his mouth. Well done, Liam, a thinker about a lot of things. Just brilliant. Now he'll definitely want to be a close mate of yours, much less fall desperately in love with you. And that was even leaving aside the issue of Louis's sexuality, about which Liam knew exactly nothing, so it was probably stupid to even start going down that road. Too late now, though.

"Could also just be that he's bloody gorgeous," Louis continued. Liam revised his previous thought, but only a touch; acknowledging Harry Styles's beauty was practically a national sport for England's male population at this point. It almost seemed like a bloke couldn't be considered properly straight without commenting on his curls or eyes or smile at least once. 

"Who's bloody gorgeous?" Ruth asked from behind Louis, Liam's entire family suddenly popping up in their doorway. 

"Harry, who else?" Liam said quickly, moving past Louis to give his mum a kiss and his dad a hug. "You all found Paul, then?"

"Oh yes, he got us all straightened out, led us right here," Liam's mum said. "Hello Zayn dear, how are you?" she asked, coming over for a hug and a kiss from him. 

"Just fine, Karen," Zayn said, hugging her back. Liam maneouvered through the small space to give Ruth and then Nicola a hug. 

"And I believe I know who this is," Liam's dad said, and Liam turned around just in time to see him hold out a hand to Louis. "Fantastic effort against Fulham, lad, I was quite impressed." 

"Thank you, sir," Louis said, glancing over at Liam. 

"I, uh, I brought my dad with me to the match," Liam explained quickly. "Right, Louis, this is my dad, Geoff, and my mum, Karen, and my sisters, Ruth and Nicola. And this is, well, you know," Liam said, running out of steam a bit at the end.

"I'm Louis," Louis filled in, still shaking Liam's dad's hand. 

"Of course you are. Hope you enjoyed the show?" Liam's dad asked, and if it was embarrassing that Liam had asked that, it was even more mortifying that his father was now. 

Louis didn't show any notice of any of that, though. "Liam just smashed it, didn't he?" Liam felt his face go red again. 

"Well, that's what he always does, isn't it," his dad said. 

This was all a bit much. "Dad," Liam said, with little hope of forestalling much, much worse.

Louis saved him yet again, though. "Well, I should probably find my sisters before one of them convinces Little Mix that they really need a fifth member. Although given the legacy of the Spice Girls, that's not a bad argument."

"Do you have a budding star in the family, then?" Liam asked, thankful to be talking about someone else's family altogether. 

"All of them, really, but Daisy in particular. She's probably attached herself to Perrie already, best get her to leave her be."

"Can't really blame her for loving Perrie, though," Zayn said. Liam attempted but largely failed to keep the smirk off his face. Zayn's crush was becoming more epic by the day.

"Course not, she's massively talented. And rather well fit to boot," Louis said, winking at Zayn. "But then they all are, aren't they?"

"No argument here," Liam said, trying not to show his disappointment. He told himself to stop being ridiculous and be a good mate instead. "Listen, if you'd like a proper introduction, I can promise you that I'll do better with them." He suddenly became aware of his family watching them both curiously, which just made him more determined. "They're all quite lovely, even nicer in real life than they seem on the telly."

Louis punched him lightly in the arm and shook his head. "I appreciate it, but we need to get going anyway. Plus I'm sure that my sisters will be telling me which one of them I'm supposed to be marrying soon," he added with a laugh. 

"Good to know they have your life under control for you," Liam said, trying to match his tone. 

"Always." Louis smiled at him again, and Liam helplessly smiled back. "Well. I'll be out of the country for the next month—"

"Yeah, best of luck with that and all," Liam interjected. 

Louis nodded and kept going. "But I'll be back in town for a bit mid-July, you should ring me sometime."

Liam bit his lip and was about to answer when his mum of all people beat him to it. "Oh, that's a shame, our Liam will still be over in America touring."

"Really?" Louis asked. Liam didn't want to think about why he found it so hard to meet Louis's gaze. 

"Yeah, this tour's headed over there for two months. Big chance for the Americans to get their first taste of Liam," Ruth said. His family were the worst. 

"I should be back in London by August, though," Liam said before anyone else could pull out some baby pictures or the like. "I'll be recording here for most of the autumn." 

Louis was laughing at him, he was pretty sure. But even still, Louis just said, "Well, ring me when you've finished being an international pop star, then."

Liam swallowed hard. "Will do," he said. He even told himself that he would.

* * *

_July_

On the first Sunday in July, the entire tour crammed into the back room of an Irish pub two blocks from Madison Square Garden to watch the Final of the Euros. Liam wasn't entirely sure who was to thank for that, but it was lovely to be able to watch football properly, in a dimly lit bar with a pint of lager, instead of squinting at a stream on his laptop in the bus's lounge.

It was strange enough to be in America during what was turning out to be the most successful international tournament for England since the fabled home World Cup in 1966. The fact that people here could talk about anything else, that it wasn't the first thing he was asked about during every radio interview, was more disorientating than any other superficial difference between America and the UK. But at least New York seemed to understand what made this Sunday so important; he'd lost count of the number of people he'd seen wearing white and red jerseys on the way to the pub, and the main room was packed to the gills with England supporters. Belgium had their pockets of supporters at the bar also, as well they should given their success this summer. But England were the team to beat, in terms of sheer talent and momentum and historical significance—exactly half a century after England's ultimate triumph on the football pitch, could she now reclaim some of her former glory, paving the way for a new legacy of greatness?

All of that went a long way to explain why Liam was so nervous he thought he might be sick, but it wasn't the whole story. As new and as slight as his connection to Tommo might be, he had never before felt anxiety on a personal level while watching international football, and he had discovered that it was absolute rubbish.

Zayn seemed to experience no anxiety at all, the utter bastard. "Relax, will you, they'll pull it off," he said confidently. Liam moaned and dropped his head on the counter of the bar.

"Might as well try to enjoy it," Perrie added, making herself comfortable on Zayn's lap. It had taken approximately one day of being in America for their flirtation to tip over into a tour romance to rival all others. Zayn insisted it was all just a laugh, nothing serious, but Liam had his doubts. "It's not like your worry will actually help him, anyway."

Liam decided not to comment on the fact that apparently everyone knew exactly _who_ and not _what_ his concern was for. "It's not like I'm choosing to be anxious, am I," he said, sitting back up and taking a disgruntled gulp of his beer. "Can't help being nervous. Don't know how you two are so calm."

"Well, you should be nervous," Paul put in from Liam's other side.

Zayn groaned. "Paul, you're killing me here."

"England haven't done nothing but choke when they're on the centre stage since before any of you lot were born. Expecting anything different today is just inviting heartache."

"Thank you, Paul," Liam said glumly.

"Now I think of it, though, Zayn's right. It's utter bollocks to be anxious over this. It's like war: there's no use being afraid of dying, since we're all already dead, innit?" Paul said cheerfully. "So drink up, lads. You too, Perrie," he added.

That at least Liam could do, with the end result being that by the time the match got underway at quarter past eleven in the morning, he was already half drunk and on a first name basis with the bartender (Damian, lovely fellow from Cork).

The first half was sheer agony to watch, both the English and the Belgians locked into a conservative, defensive game play. It was nothing like the inventive, risky play England had so uncharacteristically displayed earlier in the tournament. Now they looked much like they always had, plodding and careful, reliant upon set pieces for any sort of scoring opportunity.

Liam felt that he must somehow be contributing to this lackluster reversion to English standard form, that his own anxiety was traveling clear across the Atlantic to infect every player on the team. At the halftime whistle, he abruptly downed the last of his beer and stood up, desperate to escape for just a moment's peace.

"Can I bum a cig?" he asked Zayn, needing something to do with his hands.

Zayn nodded, tapping Perrie on her hip until she slid off his lap. "Yeah, I'll join you."

It was on the tip of Liam's tongue to tell Zayn snippily that he didn't need a babysitter, thanks and all. But Zayn probably actually needed a nicotine fix, and on reflection Liam shouldn't be alone amidst the smokers out front. He was liable to start a fight with one of them, or at the very least glare sternly at them.

Zayn kept a hand on Liam's elbow as they made their way out of the pub. Liam let him guide them to a spare patch of pavement and they both lit up among the rest of the anxiety smokers.

The first inhale distracted him, at least, even if it didn't have quite the dulling effect on his nerves that he'd been hoping for. "Why are they playing such crap?" he finally asked on the tail end of an exhale.

Zayn shrugged. "It's a final, mate. Finals are never good matches if you actually care who wins."

"I know, but." Liam didn't know where he was going with that thought, so he took another drag off his cigarette. "I thought smoking during a match was supposed to make you feel better," he complained.

Zayn stared at him. "It's a cigarette, Liam, not Valium." Which, fair enough.

Liam ground out the butt under his boot and took a deep breath. The humidity-thick air of New York in July was less than refreshing, the heat rising from the tarmac around them in practically visible waves. "Well," he said. "I suppose we should go back in and get it over with."

"That's the spirit," Zayn said, and back in they went.

For the first fifteen minutes of the second half, Liam allowed himself to hope. There was more of a spark there, a hint of the flow that had become second nature for England this year. Walcott had two good chances, and it seemed that the Belgian defence might actually loosen its hold on the match. Liam had to keep himself from cringing every time the ball was in England's half, but it seemed like things were going England's way. 

He had just convinced himself to calm down a bit when one of the Belgian forwards made a lovely play on a poorly placed pass by an English player and went charging up the sideline, plenty of pace on the ball and with loads of space, no defender between him and the goal. Liam watched in horror as the player went to cut inside, and Gary Cahill arrived with the tackle just a second too late, missing the ball entirely and taking out the attacker, studs up. The entire pub exploded in noise, but Liam could only wait and watch, a pit of anxiety in his stomach, as the ref jogged up to Cahill and showed him the red card.

It was the right call, he knew it was, and so did every member on the England squad by their tepid protests to the ref. But it was a bloody disaster. Liam watched through his fingers as Cahill walked off the pitch, trying to imagine how England could win playing the rest of the match with only ten men. 

"Had to do it," Paul said to his right, but he didn't sound grumpy, almost admiring. 

"What?" Liam asked.

"Cahill. If he hadn't've done it, it's one-nil to Belgium, and they're done with. Now they've just got to defend this free kick and hold it together, and England still have a shot to win this."

"While we're down a man? After how we've been playing? You're fucking mental," Liam said. 

"You're too young to be this pessimistic, it doesn't look good on you," Paul mocked him. "I mean, what have you even lived through? Go on, watch, he'll miss this free kick."

Against his better judgment, Liam lifted his head to watch Belgium take a free kick from twenty-five yards out. It was a cracker of a shot, low and with a nasty curve around the wall, but Joe Hart made a spectacular save to keep the match level. 

"See?" Paul said smugly, and Liam just shook his head. There were thirty-five minutes still to go, an eternity to defend while a man down. 

England were good at locking it down, making it impossible for Belgium to get a rhythm or find any space. Liam felt himself start to get both hopeful and totally despondent when they hit the eightieth minute. If they could make it through regulation and overtime, their disadvantage wouldn't matter at all during the penalties. If someone had told him that he'd be hoping for this match to end in penalties, he would have laughed in their face, but here he was. 

In the eighty-second minute Jack Wilshere was brought on as a sub, not a move Liam would have predicted. "That's a bit odd," he said, his worry rushing back. "What are they doing?"

"Looks like they're ramping up the attack again," Paul said, the both of them staring at the telly, watching as Wilshere's addition seemed to up the intensity for the entire England side in an instant. The passes were connecting again, the man disadvantage seemingly disappearing in the flow, the previously stalwart Belgian defence suddenly looking tired and out of gas. 

A flicker of hope flared up in Liam's belly, and he tried to quash it, tried to extinguish it before it could make the probable loss and devastation even worse. But before he could get a handle on it, a spectacular bit of footwork from Wilshere meant that the ball was through for England, arriving just at the top of the box, with Louis sweeping in through the middle of Belgium's defence to reach it. 

"Oh, he's got it," Zayn said from Liam's left, but Liam could hardly breathe let alone speak as he watched Louis settle the ball with one touch, manoeuvering neatly with practically no space at all, three Belgian defenders barreling down on him. There was a moment of sheer disbelief warring with anticipation as Louis planted his left foot and slotted the ball past the keeper, just curling inside the far post, the ball hitting the back of the net before the keeper even finished diving for it. 

Liam was on his feet without making any conscious decision to stand up, arms raised in the air, shouting along with the entire pub. He felt like his entire chest was about to burst open, and he grabbed hold of Paul for a hug and then Zayn and then Perrie, completely overwhelmed. The relief and adrenaline flowing through him made him jittery, his entire body shaking. 

"They've still got to make it through ten minutes, lads! Don't celebrate too hard yet," Paul warned, in a complete reversal of his previous unfounded optimism, but Liam couldn't follow his advice now any more than he'd been able to twenty minutes earlier. England had to hold on to win it. He stared at where Louis was utterly crushed under his entire team, the look of sheer joy on his face in the replay of his goal, and he couldn't bear to think about England letting it slip away. Not now, not after what Louis had just done. Not when they were so close. 

Belgium weren't going down without a fight, the late goal providing their own burst of energy as they tried desperately to level it. England's defence was locked down, and the midfield continued to press, didn't let Belgium dictate the ball, which Liam understood as a tactical matter but found incredibly stressful to watch. He wanted all ten men between the goal and the ball at all times. But the minutes counted down, more slowly than any Liam could remember in his life, until finally they were in the last three minutes of stoppage time. 

"I can't take this. Three minutes? For what?" Liam lamented, downing the shot that someone had already ordered for the room, hoping he wasn't jinxing the entire match with it. 

"They'll do it, they'll hold on," Zayn said, a note of desperation in his voice for the first time. Liam thought about what it would be like to lose this in the end, after such a fantastic late goal, how they could survive falling apart (and in France, of all places), and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, chewing on his nails. 

The entire pub lived and died with each pass of the ball by Belgium, cheering as soon as England regained possession and buzzing with anticipation. Liam saw rather than heard the ref blow the final whistle, and then the din somehow got even louder and he couldn't hear himself think as he chanted, "Champione, champione! Ole, ole, ole!" along with the whole back room. It was absurd, a triumph so great he hadn't even let himself truly consider that it might happen, what it would mean, how it would feel. 

And the camera kept showing Louis, first with his teammates, then consoling one of the Belgian players and exchanging jerseys with him, and finally jogging up to the stands of England fans, celebrating along with them. 

Liam had actual tears in his eyes, a fact that would probably feel more embarrassing if there weren't other England fans weeping outright in the pub. It felt a bit odd to not be in England for this moment, to not be with his dad down at his local in Wolverhampton or with Harry at some pub in London. But the crew in this back room of a pub in New York were his way of bringing England with him, and that would do just fine. 

He focused on Louis on the screen again, being interviewed about his goal. The pub was still too loud for Liam to really make out the words, but he could read it all on Louis's face anyway, the joy and relief and pride and utter disbelief there. Louis was sweaty and pink-cheeked and so incredibly beautiful, and Liam couldn't look away from him, staring until they moved on to Wilshere. Liam pulled out his phone then to add his tweet to the millions already out there. 

_well done to @louistommo and the rest of the lads!!! cant believe it proud to know you mate #England_

The adrenaline was draining out of him, leaving him feeling like he'd been the one playing for ninety minutes. It was a gift of scheduling to not have a show this evening. By the time they went on tomorrow it was possible Liam would have recovered from the hangover he was planning on earning tonight. 

He was startled out of his thoughts by Zayn pounding him on the back before tugging him in for a hug. Liam leaned into him, suddenly so grateful all over again that he got to travel with one of his best mates. It made the weirdness of not always feeling like he belonged much easier to deal with. 

There was something in that thought, something he wanted to capture in a song, maybe. But now wasn't the time for that at all. Now was time for shots. 

"Hey Damian, give us another round of shots! Maybe Jameson, like," Liam shouted at the bartender. 

"Knew you'd want to raise a glass in honour of Ireland," Damian shot back as he lined up the glasses on the bar. Liam grinned and flipped him two fingers, his entire body warm and floaty now. 

"I can't believe they actually did it!" he yelled to no one and everyone at once. 

"And in bloody France, too, that'll teach 'em," Paul added from his right. "Only thing better would've been beating them in their own country."

"Yeah, but Belgium deserved to be there and all," Liam said. 

"They did, no one's saying otherwise, but England were the best," Zayn said, raising his glass. Liam and the whole pub joined him for one more shot. 

By the time they stumbled out of the Pig and Whistle, it felt like it must be at least midnight. But while they'd been there for hours, it was only just six, the sun still bright in the sky. Liam had the feeling of not knowing where or when he was in the world again. He wished it was a bus night at least so that it would be easier to pretend, but off to the hotel they went, stumbling around the crowds of tourists. Some of them looked at Liam curiously, but he couldn't stop even for those who clearly knew who he was. Tonight he couldn't be Liam Payne, former X Factor contestant with a budding career in the U.S. (if he was to believe what his manager was telling him). He could only be Liam, a lad from England who'd just watched someone he could claim as a friend pull off the most spectacular victory he could imagine. 

By the time he got to his hotel room, he could barely make his fingers work his phone, but he had to send something. 

_heyyyyyy cant believe how bloody incridible you were out there fuckingggggg national heroe!!!_

And with that he threw his phone on the bedside table and lay down on the bed, planning on taking just a brief nap before getting up for dinner. 

The bedside clock said 12:39 a.m. when he woke up again; the inside of his mouth was stuck together. It took him a moment to figure out what could have woken him, but then he saw that his phone was lit up and buzzing. 

_you think you can't believe it !!!!_

_so you got to watch it in America? Didn't know if they'd even have it on_

Feeling much more awake now, Liam quickly typed out a reply. 

_yeahhhhhhhh they did it was a gud crowd for England. And what are you doing up already???? Shouldnt u still be out?_

The response came almost instantly

_ha, haven't gone to bed yet. Can't imagine sleeping now. Glad you got to see the match !_

_wouldnt have missed it for anything_

Liam tried to imagine not seeing that live, as it happened, as Louis fucking saved all of England's hopes, and he shook his head. Didn't bear thinking about. 

_cheers, then. Should probably take a shower, see if that gets me sleepy. Ring me when you're back in England?_

Liam stared at his phone. As if there were any possible universe in which Liam should get to ring up Louis Tomlinson. Texting was one thing; Liam always figured Louis must be bored or couldn't sleep or something. But a phone call implied a purpose that made Liam flustered to even think of. He couldn't quite think of a polite way to say that, though, so he texted back something he might be able to actually do:

_ill shoot you a text :) hope the shower helps goidnightttttttt_

It took Liam a long time to fall back asleep.

* * *

By the eighth week of touring in America, Liam was jumping out of his skin a bit.

The tour was an unqualified success, with sold out crowds in every city and audiences that were increasingly full and enthusiastic for his set. Being on stage was still amazing, and worth every hour they spent on the bus, traveling all over this country that was so large it seemed like it was showing off. (When Liam expressed this thought aloud, Zayn gave him a flat look. "Of course it's showing off. It's America.")

But even though it was worth it, Liam found those hours on the bus to be lonely and disorientating. For all that everything was still in English, it was impossible to ever forget that he wasn't in England or to find a familiar-feeling place. 

He was homesick, there was no other way of putting it, and while he called his parents and sisters and even Harry at least once a week, it still wasn't enough. Even the fairly frequent texts he was slowly beginning to expect getting from Louis weren't able to settle him. At least he'd finally stopped feeling like Louis must have texted the wrong number and blushing like mad every time he got a new message. Hanging out with Zayn made a difference, always, but he didn't want to get in the way of his time with Perrie. He could survive a few hours a day on his own. 

The nice part about all the solitude was having time to write, though. He already had fifteen songs he needed to pare down to twelve for the next album, and the label wanted him to work with three or four new producers once he got back to London. But after a while even that stopped calming him down, because he just wanted to actually record something, start laying down parts and figuring out the harmonies for each song. 

So he mostly focused on working out for at least an hour or two a day, doing whatever press or radio was scheduled for him, and then maybe doing some shopping if he could convince Paul to come with him. And then it was a matter of finding someone on the crew or in the band who would watch a film with him or do something else to pass the time. 

He was surprised but delighted to find Zayn hanging out in the lounge during the afternoon of a day off. He and Perrie were usually especially scarce if they had a whole twenty-four hours free. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling out his iPad and flopping down next to Zayn. 

"Just catching up with my sister," Zayn said, typing away on his laptop. 

"No, I meant, why aren't you off with Perrie?" Liam would almost be concerned if he hadn't seen the two of them wrapped around each other after the show last night, eyes for no others. It was wonderful, watching one of his best mates find love like that, and any envy Liam might have felt got very firmly squashed down until it was almost like it didn't exist. 

"She and the girls are performing at that radio show today, remember?" That did sound familiar, but Liam was certain that concert was taking place in California, and they were in Sacramento, so Liam was quite confused. 

"Wait. Are we already in California?" Liam asked. 

That drew Zayn's attention away from the computer for a moment. "Of course. Where did you think we were?"

"Dunno," Liam answered honestly. "I mean, we are still in Sacramento?" Zayn nodded slowly, and Liam gave up. "This whole country's too big to know where we are," Liam said grumpily. He focused instead on his iPad, pulling up the game Ruth had told him to download. He wasn't quite sure why killing zombies with garden vegetables should be fun, but she'd told him he'd like it, and he tended to do what she said. Start with the sunflowers, she had advised, so he started planting. 

It was nice being in the lounge with Zayn rather than playing a video game on his own, even though Zayn wasn't paying any attention at all to his plant strategy. Things were going fairly well for him already, he thought smugly, giving an inward cheer when the potato mine blew up a rather nasty looking zombie indeed. 

"Holy shit," Zayn said slowly, dragging out each syllable. 

"Yeah, I know, I fucking nailed him," Liam said happily. 

"What? No, not that," Zayn said, his voice sounding a bit odd. 

"What is it? Something bad happen?" Liam asked, only half paying attention. He was going to beat these flipping zombies. Planting another pea shooter was the best option. 

"Not bad, just unexpected. Tommo's come out."

"Come out where?" Liam asked, focused on killing the Abominable Snowman in his path. 

"Of the closet, Liam, Christ," Zayn said, a touch exasperated, and suddenly his words reordered themselves in Liam's brain. 

"He came out as gay?" Liam asked, finally looking up from where his plants were already being overrun by vegetarian zombies. Nothing made any sense at all. "But why would he do that?"

Zayn looked at him like he was crazy. "Because he's gay?"

Liam waved a hand at him. "No no, but I mean. He's a footballer," he said weakly. "There aren't any out footballers."

Zayn shrugged. "Guess there are now."

There was something buzzing in Liam's ear, a frequency that seemed to match the sudden nerves in his stomach. He closed out of his game without even bothering to pause it and pulled up google, typing in _Louis Tomlinson gay_. There were a million articles that matched the search. He felt rather numb as he clicked on the Guardian link (the bloody Guardian! Had to be true if even they were reporting it). 

_Tomlinson, 24, declined to answer any questions about his current romantic status, saying that it was "simply the right time" for him to address his sexuality. "Football is and always will be my life, but it's not all that my life is," he said in the press conference. "And I didn't feel like it was right for me to avoid this particular topic any longer."_

"There was a whole press conference?" Liam wondered out loud. 

Zayn nodded. "Yeah, and apparently he'll be on Jonathan Ross tomorrow night as well. Bet that's not the only talk show he's doing this week. Big news."

"Yeah," Liam said weakly. He dug his phone out of his pocket and thumbed to the last texts he'd gotten from Louis only thirty-six hours ago. He tried and failed to decode a message from them that would have hinted to Liam that he'd been about to come out. Nothing in them had suggested Louis was about to do anything of the sort. Liam felt both a bit relieved and almost disappointed. 

"Are you jealous?" Zayn asked quietly, pulling his attention away from his phone.

Liam didn't know how to answer that. He thought about doing what Louis had done, tweeting a link to a press release on his own website with a clear cut statement about his sexuality for all the world to know; and he thought about Harry, who was constantly linked with men and women (sometimes in the same article) and never seemed bothered, content to wink and smile mysteriously when asked point blank about his love life, somehow managing to charm everyone while not answering a single question. He didn't have Harry's gift for evasion, never would, but neither could he imagine telling the world that he liked men, just like that, assuming that everyone would care.

"He's going to get loads of attention," he said finally, hoping that was enough of an answer.

Zayn made a small noise of assent and didn't say anything more. Liam relaxed. It was nice, having a mate who seemed to understand what Liam meant even (or especially) when Liam didn't have a clue what he was feeling.

He kept staring at the empty text box, trying and failing to think of what to say to Louis now. He'd only just begun to feel truly comfortable responding to Louis's texts—the last one had lamented a workout that left him shattered, and Liam had even dared to compare training schedules with him—but he didn't have any idea of what to say about this. He wished that Louis had sent him a text first, although Liam wasn't sure he'd have known how to react to being told personally, either. It still felt like it would have been different. 

He switched his phone off. Liam would text him tomorrow.

* * *

Tomorrow came and went as the tour wound its way through cities Liam had never heard of before, in states he couldn't place on a map if his life depended on it. He kept taking snapshots along the way, of cacti and animal skulls and Mardi Gras beads, until at last they were in Miami for the final show.

Every time he opened his twitter to post another picture of his American journey, there was another link or seven about Louis on his feed: his interview with Jonathan Ross, a rather stern letter of support from Arsene Wenger that was co-signed by the entire Arsenal squad, and a series of interviews between Louis and David Beckham. Becks seemed rather put out when Louis told him he didn't fancy him. "Ah, but you're straight, David—that just kills it for me," Louis explained with a smirk, finally agreeing that if Beckham did play for his team, things might be different. 

Liam watched them all, clicking through to each link. After each one he would thumb over to his texts, the last one from Louis still there, waiting for an answer. He had never waited so long between texts before, but he'd never been so at a loss for what to say. All of his previous communication with Louis had worked because he'd never let himself think about it too much, just knowing that every time he told Louis anything about his day he felt less homesick. Now he was thinking about it all the time, for over a week, and in two days he would actually be home. 

He shut his phone off again. Surely he would know what to say once he was back in London.

* * *

_August_

It wasn't Liam's idea to go to Harry's party, but Zayn insisted. 

"You need to see people who aren't your producers. These days if you're not at home, then you're at the studio, and that's no life, mate," Zayn said, standing impatiently in Liam's doorway. 

It was true that Liam had spent most of his waking hours since getting back to England working on his album, but that was for good reason. There was very little time to get everything done, and it was all so important. "I'll come out with you tomorrow night," he tried to bargain. 

"You should do, I've barely seen you since tour, but given that Harry's party is tonight, you're coming with me now," Zayn said. 

Well. That wasn't the right result at all. "No, but I really think that I know where this song is going now," Liam protested. Zayn threw a shirt at his face. 

"How many times have you said that to me in the last two weeks?" Zayn asked. Liam held out the shirt as he pretended to consider wearing it. It was a good point. 

"Besides," Zayn continued, "sometimes you need to actually get out there in the world and experience things to have stuff to write about, mate." 

"And one of Harry's parties is the place for that?" The last time Liam had gone to a party hosted by Harry, he'd wound up sat between two of Harry's favourite hipsters on a sofa, trying but failing to follow the conversation. He still wasn't sure if they had been talking about a nightclub or a pet rabbit. 

"Just show up and say hello," Zayn said, conveniently ignoring Liam's question. "But if you don't go, Harry will pout, and I'll have to deal with it, and that is not on."

Harry did have a pretty brutal pout. "Fine," Liam said. "But I'm not staying long."

"Never thought you would," Zayn said. 

The party was already in full swing when they arrived, clusters of fashionably dressed musicians and artists and hangers-on gathered on each sofa and around every surface with food on it. Everyone blended together a bit, though Zayn spotted Perrie quickly enough, heading over to her with no more warning than an arm-squeeze for Liam, abandoning him to the hipsters. 

Time for a drink, clearly. 

Liam found Harry hiding in his own kitchen, leaning against the island. "Shouldn't you be out there entertaining?" Liam teased him before stepping in for a hug. 

Harry squeezed him tight and then let go, smiling widely. "Liam, the heart of the party is always in the kitchen. Everyone comes by here eventually. Let me make you a drink," he said, walking over to the breakfast bar that connected the kitchen and his open dining room. "Vodka and coke work?"

"Cheers," Liam said. He accepted the glass and surveyed the crowd across the open room. It was still loud over here, but it felt a little less like being on display. 

That was when Liam saw Louis come in, followed by another man Liam didn't know. He was laughing at something Louis had said, face bright and open, and Louis responded by poking him in the stomach. The other man didn't seem bothered, just grabbed Louis's hand and stepped closer. 

That shouldn't have been a surprise, Liam thought firmly at himself. Why else would Louis have come out, after all? Must have someone serious in his life. And obviously he'd be able to pull someone quite fit. He took another swig of his drink, surprised to find it was already down to ice. He poured himself another. 

"Liam, I don't think you've been listening to me at all," Harry complained, hooking his chin over Liam's shoulder. 

"Sorry," Liam said absently, patting Harry's head in further apology. He swallowed hard. "Is that his boyfriend, then?" Liam couldn't help but ask.

"Is which man whose boyfriend?" Harry asked in return, somehow unable to see inside Liam's brain and identify all his most embarrassing thoughts. That should probably be reassuring. "Oh, you mean the blond bloke with Louis?" Damn.

"Yes, him," Liam clarified. "I mean, they look quite close." They did, exceptionally close, Louis leaning in intimately to whisper in his ear.

"Well, they would be, seeing as Niall's an Arsenal trainer. You're right about one thing though, he is worth noticing, isn't he?" Harry asked, grinning at Liam and popping a cherry tomato into his mouth. "Perhaps he's in need of a chat up."

"So Niall is gay, then?" Liam tried to clarify.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him and attempted to look smooth. "Only one way to find out."

Liam shook his head as Harry left the kitchen, a man on a mission. He'd long since given up on attempting to follow the ins and outs of Harry's love life. He knew just enough to be certain of how wrong the rags were about everything, but that didn't say much of anything.

He was in the middle of pouring himself another drink when Louis walked in, stopping short when he saw Liam. "Oh, I didn't realise you were here."

"Yeah, Zayn and I just got here about half an hour ago," Liam said. "Sorry, I'll let you get a drink," he said, moving away from the various bottles out on the counter. 

Louis didn't say anything to that at all, focused on choosing a drink and not even looking at him. Liam cast about for something to say and then landed on the most obvious. 

"Hey, well done this summer, you were dead brilliant out there," Liam said sincerely. This at least was an easy topic. It was impossible to feel anything other than awe and a strange sort of pride and national ownership over Louis's performance in France.

"Cheers, mate," Louis said, cocking his beer at Liam.

"Has it been hard, going back to your club side?" Liam asked.

"Not really. It's trickier the other way around, trying to gel with a bunch of guys you don't play with ten months out of the year." Louis's face suddenly grew a bit cautious-looking. "Or did you mean this season in particular? Given my announcement?"

"No, no," Liam rushed to reassure him. "I just meant in general."

"Because the lads have actually been great," Louis continued, as if Liam hadn't said anything. "Much better than I would have predicted, honestly." 

"That's good," Liam said, feeling hopelessly out of his depth. 

"I've had to deal with some negative fan reactions of course, and a bit of bullshit in the media, but nothing near as bad as I had feared." Louis was watching Liam as he said that last bit, but Liam was still processing the first part. 

"Wait, fans have been nasty to you?" Liam asked, voice rising in disbelief. "After what you did this summer?"

Louis shrugged, a study of careful nonchalance. "Not everyone approves of a poof doing something good."

Liam couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so outraged. "What a load of rubbish that is."

There was a loaded silence. "Yeah, that's almost as bad as mates who randomly stopped texting me," Louis said sharply, eyebrows disappearing up under his fringe. 

It was like getting a punch right in the gut. "Louis—"

"I know, I know, you've been busy, right?" Louis interrupted.

"No, that's not," Liam protested, switching gears when Louis's face suddenly looked murderous. "I mean, I have been busy, but that's not why I didn't text. I just. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to muck it up," he confessed, hearing just how weak that sounded. 

"Could have just said, 'heard the news, well done, mate,'" Louis said, his voice still with an edge. "Unless that's not what you thought."

Liam felt both immediately guilty and also a bit offended. "Of course that's what I thought!" Liam retorted. "And besides, it might have been nice to not have heard it from the internet, _mate,_ " and oh god, he really hadn't meant to say that. 

Louis gave a laugh. "Oh, so now I needed to tell every random person I know before it was appropriate to tell the world? Thanks for the advice, Liam."

It was on the tip of Liam's tongue to say that he hadn't realised he was just a random person to Louis, but he bit it back in time. None of this was the point, anyway. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I should have texted. But I'm proud of you. It took a lot of nerve to do that," he said, tapping his fingers on his glass.

"Wasn't that big a thing," Louis said, looking anywhere but at Liam. 

"Yes, it was, don't play it off like that," Liam said, proper exasperated. 

"Like you'd even know," Louis said, finally looking at Liam. 

This was it, then. "I do know, a bit. Thought I'd wet myself when I told my parents about me, and that was just to two people, not the world. Can't even imagine what it'd be like to just tweet about it," Liam said, practically whispering it, his heart pounding like it always did when he told someone new. 

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from Louis, but it definitely wasn't Louis suddenly standing up straight, a cold look on his face. "Oh, I see. Couldn't be a boy in the closet and still be publicly known as a friend of that gay footballer, eh?"

Liam felt his mouth drop. "What do you mean?"

But he needn't have worried; Louis wasn't done yet. "I understand, being associated with me would still be too risky. Unless you're the sort to try the 'I'm so cool with the gays I myself can't possibly like cock' thing. But no, that seems a bit much for you," Louis said, his mouth twisting up. 

Liam had no idea what he was talking about. "I've got no idea what you're on about."

"Thought that maybe we could be mates in private, though?" Louis continued, moving closer to Liam. 

Liam flushed at the idea of being private with Louis. "I do want to be mates with you."

"Didn't want it known, though?"

"No, I didn't!" Liam said finally, fed up and feeling like he'd had quite enough pushing and prodding. "I didn't really mind having a useless crush on a fit superstar footballer, I swear I didn't. But it's a bit scarier when it turns out he's actually gay, alright mate?"

Louis was staring at him, not saying a word. That was it; Liam'd cocked it all up. See, just like that—

"You really are the daftest person I've ever met." Louis took a step closer.

Liam took a step back in response. "I just didn't want to make it awkward—"

"So you thought that ignoring me was the solution. Nice, Payno," Louis said. He reached out and, without any warning at all, gave Liam's nipple a tweak.

"Ouch!" Weakly Liam grabbed hold of Louis's hand, trying to prevent another attack. Louis reached in with his other hand, and Liam had just enough warning to grab that hand too, his entire body feeling flushed and shaky. He made himself look at Louis's face, still holding tight to his hands.

Louis looked just as wrecked as Liam felt, which was a little reassuring. Then he gave a little shrug, squeezing both of Liam's hands, and his gaze flicked down to Liam's lips.

"Either of you know why Harry Styles was asking me about my favourite fruit?" Niall asked, barging into the kitchen. 

"Oh god," Liam said, letting go of Louis's wrists and stepping back. He felt like he could hardly breathe. 

"Because I'm happy to tell him anything he wants to know about my feelings toward melon, but I felt like that was the wrong answer, somehow."

"Did you actually tell him melon?" Louis asked incredulously. 

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it? A nice watermelon on a summer's day, nothing better," Niall said before knocking back half a tumbler of whisky. 

"I think you just broke his fruit-loving heart," Louis said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. 

Niall looked between Liam and Louis. "He doesn't actually judge people for what kind of fruit they like, does he?"

"No," Liam answered just as Louis said, "Yes." Liam continued on before Louis could get another word in. "Well, he does, but that wasn't a conversation about fruit."

"He was trying to ask if you'd be up for a shag," Louis clarified. 

Niall looked even more baffled. "Via fruit?"

Liam shrugged. "Harry's brain works in mysterious ways."

"Well, I'm sorry then if I've disappointed him," Niall said, pouring himself another double. 

Louis laughed. "Don't take this wrong, but he won't be hurting for other options."

"Good, good, it's brutal to know you've made a pop star cry," Niall said, nudging Liam before downing his glass. "I'm Niall, by the way," he added. 

Liam shook his hand. "Yeah, Harry said you're an Arsenal trainer?"

Niall nodded. "Yeah, that's me. I keep this one match fit. Takes all my effort, believe me."

"What a load of shit," Louis said mildly. 

Niall didn't even look like he'd heard him. "By the way, it was absolute rubbish that you lost to that twat Billy, you should've won it all," Niall said all in one breath. 

Liam blinked at him. "Um, thank you?" 

Niall nodded back. "Guess you've showed him it's not all about who comes in first on a show like that, eh? Me and Louis were quite gutted for you at the time, but it all worked out in the end."

"Like I said, X Factor was a welcome distraction during my first season with the club. Good way to unwind after a Saturday fixture," Louis interjected, staring pointedly at Niall. 

"Yeah, you were certainly distracted—" Niall started. 

"Is that Cheryl Cole?" Louis said loudly over Niall. 

Niall turned to look. "Christ, it is. Alright, lads, you'll need to entertain yourselves for the rest of the evening, I'm on the pull."

Liam watched as Niall strode confidently toward Cheryl, bemused by the entire conversation. "I don't know that Cheryl deserves to have to deal with him in his state," he finally said when Louis seemed unwilling to speak first. 

Louis shook his head. "Apparently the ladies find him quite charming," he said, nodding over to where Niall was already chatting with Cheryl. When Liam turned to look, he saw that Louis was right; Cheryl was turned toward Niall, smiling coyly at him. 

"Harry will be disappointed," he commented, turning back to Louis. 

"Which, about Niall or Cheryl?" Louis asked softly, leaning close to Liam so he could be heard. 

Liam swallowed. From here he could see the curl of Louis's eyelashes, the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. "Both?" he offered weakly, his face going a bit hot when Louis grinned at him in response. 

"Sounds about right," Louis said, his voice still low and intimate. 

He felt himself swaying toward him, just barely stopping before he made an idiot of himself in front of a whole party. "I need the loo," Liam said, stumbling backwards a bit. 

His hands were shaking when he closed the door behind him, the sudden quiet of the room a relief after the din of the party. Or at least it was until he realised there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Brilliant planning, Payno. 

He had a wee since he was there, telling himself that he wasn't a complete fool, only most of one, and that at least Louis hadn't seemed angry by the end of the conversation. After washing his hands and splashing some water on his face, he looked at himself in the mirror. 

"Stop being ridiculous," he said firmly. It was about as effective as it ever was when he lectured himself in the mirror. 

When he came out, Louis was leaning against the wall next to the loo. Liam stopped short, caught by his gaze. Louis gave him a tentative smile, and pushed himself upright and walked down the hall toward Liam. "Didn't want you to leave or something before we had a chance to say goodbye."

He was reaching out and snagging Louis's wrist before he could think better of it, shoving him into the spare bedroom. There were guests' coats and bags all over the floor and when Louis nearly tripped, Liam yanked him upright and kissed him.

His hands were already shaking, but he tried to hold them steady against Louis's face as Louis kissed him back fiercely. He felt like he was floating and he wasn't sure if that was down to the three vodka and cokes he'd downed in quick succession, or if it was just due to the feel of Louis pressed tight against him, their hips fitting squarely together. 

The signals seemed fairly easy to read but Liam thought he'd better check after all the confusion. "I'm sorry, I know this is a bit sudden," he said, dragging his mouth away from Louis's.

"Yes, I'm absolutely furious you kissed me," Louis retorted, biting down hard on Liam's lower lip. Liam gasped, his hands gripping Louis's shoulders tightly. "Kiss me again, you idiot."

So Liam did, reassured and also completely overwhelmed. This hadn't been the plan for his evening; he had meant to only say hi to Harry and then head home to watch Batman Begins for the millionth time. But then Louis grabbed his arse hard and all other thoughts were forgotten in favour of snogging Louis's face off. 

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, Liam jumped away from Louis, his heart pounding.

"So sorry to interrupt, please don't mind me," Nick Grimshaw said mildly. "I'm dying for a smoke, and silly me left them in my jacket." He moved smoothly through the room, circling around them. Somehow Louis had positioned himself between Nick and Liam and was moving to counter Nick's movements, acting like a human shield or something. It was a bit ridiculous, given that they were more or less of a height. Liam felt like he was playing a very bad game of hide and seek.

"Funny thing about Harry's parties," Nick said, continuing in that mild tone. "I always end up witnessing the most interesting things that I never tell a soul about. It's the most delightful and infuriating party favour in the world for a dedicated gossip, but I do so enjoy the parties anyway. Ah, here they are," he said, holding up a packet of cigarettes. He popped one in his mouth. "Bit of advice, if I may," he said, talking around the cigarette. "Lots of people come in and out of here. Might want to move this elsewhere, lads." And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

Liam stared at the closed door, not entirely sure what had just happened. After a moment he turned to look at Louis, at a bit of a loss for words.

"He can seem like a gossip, but I really don't think there's anything to worry about," Louis said quietly, hand still clutching Liam's shirt.

Liam stared at him, puzzled. "What, him telling someone? Why would you care, even if he did? I mean, everyone already knows about you."

It was Louis's turn to look confused. "I was thinking more for your sake," he said slowly.

Liam had to laugh. "You really think anyone'll care about who the runner up off X Factor from two years ago is shagging?"

Louis nodded. "I really, really do. And hey," he continued before Liam could tell him how totally mental that was, "who said anything about shagging? Thought we were just having a snog in a coat closet." His indignation was quite at odds with his hands pulling Liam up against him.

"This is an actual room," Liam felt compelled to point out even as his body flushed hot. Louis's gaze was fixed on Liam's mouth.

"Yes, but Grimmy's right, he's probably not the last person to need something from in here."

Liam took a chance. "Do you want to leave with me?" 

Louis smiled. "What an excellent suggestion."

It took them ages to actually leave, Liam getting waylaid on the way out by Zayn and Perrie. He ended up having an entire conversation through eyebrow raises with Zayn about just what Liam thought he was doing. Apparently Zayn was satisfied in the end by his answers, since he was finally let go with just a hug and a hair ruffle. Liam reckoned he'd be getting a phone call tomorrow morning, though.

Louis seemed to be in the midst of his own interrogation from Harry, although Liam's ability to translate Harry's interpretive dance method of communication wasn't up to snuff in this case. Finally, Louis gave a little shrug and then turned round, searching the crowded room for Liam and cocking his head toward the door when he found him. 

Liam left first, waiting until Louis joined him outside. It was probably only thirty seconds, but it was long enough for him to wonder what the fuck he was playing at, trying to pull Louis Tomlinson. He knew he wasn't bad looking, not after all the work Zayn had put into him, but like. This was _Tommo._

Then Louis came careening out the door, giving him a half grin and cocking his head, and whether it was mental or not, Liam was going to try.

"This way," he said, proud that his voice didn't shake too much. 

His flat wasn't too far from Harry's; their neighborhood was posh without making Liam feel too hopelessly out of his element all the time, and he liked having a friend nearby. It didn't really make it feel like Wolverhampton or anything, but it was something. 

His flat bore no resemblance to Harry's, though. Where Harry's was all chrome and modern design mixed with more open space than Liam could imagine doing anything with, his was a modest one bedroom, furnished with whatever his sisters had picked out for him. It didn't feel like home, not exactly, but it was a good launching pad for his life in London, and that was enough. 

"I know it's not much," he started to say as he unlocked the front door, flicking on the light in the hall. His next thought was cut off by Louis kissing him hard, and kicking the door closed behind them. 

Liam's keys fell from his hand as he kissed Louis back; this was a thousand times more interesting than his apartment's dubious decor. He got his hands into Louis's shaggy hair, tangling his fingers in it and tilting Louis's head back to get the angle just right. 

His hands firm on Liam's chest, Louis got a good grip on his shirt and dragged Liam along with him as he stepped backwards into the apartment. It was up to Liam to guide their way, sliding his hands down Louis's back and taking clumsy steps first toward the sofa and then, in a moment of last-second bravery, bypassing it completely and tugging Louis into his bedroom. 

His choice of location didn't seem to bother Louis at all, his mouth barely leaving Liam's, hands roaming up and down his back and then finally gripping his arse again. Liam moaned into his mouth, getting his hands on Louis's hips and tugging him up against his body, the hard line of Louis's cock pressing against his thigh. They paused in the middle of Liam's bedroom for a moment, Louis pushing up against Liam's leg, riding him, the strength in Louis's body obvious and stupidly arousing. 

It was all moving so fast, now that they'd begun, but Liam couldn't slow them down. He spun them around and guided Louis to the bed, pushing him down and watching as Louis sprawled out over his duvet, legs dangling off the side, his chest heaving. Liam stood right up against the bed between Louis's legs, bracing himself over Louis with his weight on his fists planted on either side of Louis's body, and leaned in for another kiss. 

"What do you want?" Liam asked softly, kissing Louis again before he could answer. He'd intended just a quick peck, but instead the kiss went on for a long moment, Louis dragging his fingernails over Liam's scalp. 

Finally, Louis pulled back, letting his head drop down onto the bed. "I'm fine with anything," he said, running his hands up and down Liam's shoulders and arms. 

Pleased by the way Louis touched him, Liam shifted more of his weight forward onto his arms. He might not be anywhere near as fit as a professional athlete, but he wasn't too bad off. "Yeah, but what do you like? I want it to be good for you," he said softly

Louis leaned up and gave Liam a gentle kiss. "Whatever you're comfortable with," Louis answered carefully, his voice a little shaky. 

Liam narrowed his eyes. _Wait a second._

Louis was still going. "Really, I don't want to—" 

"You think I'm a virgin!" Liam exclaimed, standing up fully. He hadn't meant to interrupt, but _really._

"Uh." Louis wouldn't meet his eyes. "I didn't say that."

Liam crossed his arms and tried to look stern. "You do, admit it."

Louis finally looked at him again. He sat up so that Liam wasn't staring down at him on the bed and shrugged. His eyes went wide when Liam dropped to his knees between his legs and ran his hands up Louis's thick thighs. Louis was still visibly hard in his jeans. 

"You really think I'm a gay virgin," Liam mused. The way Louis was looking down at him, mouth agape, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing, made Liam feel like he was on stage, all the focus in the room on him. This he could work with. 

He smiled slowly, reaching up and undoing Louis's jeans, pulling the zipper down. Louis's hand landed heavy on Liam's shoulder, and Liam looked up, waiting until Louis swallowed and nodded. Then he tugged Louis's pants down his thighs, watching as his hard cock sprang free, before finally circling the base of Louis's cock with his hand. "I'm not, though," Liam said, eyes still intent on Louis's until he swallowed him down. 

Louis dug his fingertips hard into Liam's shoulder and Liam let him, sucking him off nice and slow. His hands spanned Louis's thighs and kept him still as Louis tried to thrust up into his mouth. But he didn't try too hard, since Liam was certain he could have overpowered him, which was enough to make Liam's already hard dick hurt as it pressed up against his flies.

He allowed himself to take his time and enjoy it, making it wet and sloppy and letting Louis's dick fill his mouth. It lay heavy on his tongue as he sucked and breathed in through his nose, the scent and taste of Louis all-consuming. He pulled back for a moment to tongue the slit before swallowing him back down, taking him deep into his throat. 

Finally he took one hand off Louis's thighs to undo his own jeans, his other hand moving up to press firmly against Louis's hip, getting a stronger hold as Louis began to shake. Louis was loud above him, moaning and tugging hard on Liam's hair with each suck, until finally he was shuddering and coming down Liam's throat, silent aside from his gasping. 

Liam pulled off quickly, sitting back on his thighs as he got a hand around himself and started wanking, staring up at Louis, who looked completely debauched, all dazed and sweaty because of Liam. 

"Get up here," Louis said finally, sounding hoarse and raspy and like he'd been the one with a dick down his throat a moment ago. Liam did as he was told, standing up and stomping out of his jeans before throwing himself onto the bed. He figured he'd finish himself off, maybe with a helpful hand from Louis, but instead Louis pulled Liam's hand off his dick and went down himself like he had something to prove.

Whether he did or not, he was doing an admirable job of it, sucking Liam off like there was someone timing him, and Liam only had a moment to enjoy how perfect Louis's mouth was before he came hard, shooting his load before he'd even come down from sucking Louis off himself. 

Louis pulled himself up the bed and Liam, still panting hard, crawled after him until they were lying next to each other. Liam slung an arm round Louis's waist and Louis tucked his head against Liam's chest, his arm draped over Liam's shoulder as they dozed. Liam tugged Louis closer, relishing this particularly satisfying post-sex exhaustion. 

"I think you were trying to say something about your flat when we first got here," Louis said finally, stroking the tips of his fingers over Liam's back. 

"Hmm? Oh," Liam said, trying desperately to rev his brain up enough to use actual words. "Yeah, I was just warning you that my place isn't much like Harry's, that's all."

Louis was quiet for a moment. "My place in North London has a floor that's just a games room, wall to wall."

"What, really?"

Louis nodded. "When Arsenal first bought me, I thought, time for a proper home, you know? I've made it. So I bought a house that matched that salary. But then I didn't know what to do with all that space. It's not like I have a wife and kids. So pinball machines seemed like a good idea for one of the floors at least."

"I'd love to see it," Liam said without thinking, not realising the implication until Louis's fingers stilled on his back. "Uh. Unless this is a one-off?"

When Louis answered him, he sounded more tentative than Liam had ever heard him. "Wasn't sure you'd be up for the baggage of dating an out footballer," he said finally.

Liam pulled back a little, just so he could see Louis's face. "Thought I was just inviting you back for a shag?" It made him a little sad that Louis could think that.

Louis shrugged, linking one of his hands with Liam's. "I didn't know," he said softly. "It's a lot to ask."

"Dating a pop star's no picnic either," Liam pointed out. "And, I mean, I'm not out, but I could be."

"You will be, whether you like it or not, if we start hanging out publicly," Louis said. 

"Yeah, you're kind of a big deal, or so I've heard," Liam said, nudging him. He was relieved when Louis at least snorted and shoved him for it. 

"Excuse you, I am a very big deal," Louis said grandly. 

They hadn't quite decided on anything, though. "Well. I think, given the choice between trying for a good thing, and giving up from the start, I'm up for trying. If you are," Liam added. He'd learnt the hard way that him trying alone wasn't enough. 

Louis was quiet long enough for Liam to begin to panic. But finally he nodded, moving closer to Liam. "I'm willing if you are. It's just—it's all pretty new for me."

This time Liam really did panic. "Oh god, Lou, did I—I mean. Were _you_ a virgin?" he asked. 

He'd never been so relieved to get a punch to the stomach. "No, you dick, did that blow job seem virginal to you? I just meant I'm new to relationships. Especially ones that'll play out in the gossip pages. Jesus."

Liam cuddled him closer. "Well, that's fine then. And I mean, it would have been fine if you had been a virgin! Just, I would have like to have known, I'd have done things differently." 

He got a pinch on his thigh this time for that. "There are many who've been here before, Payno, I hate to burst your bubble."

That was alright. He was here now. "We can make it work. Or at least, I want to try." 

It was Louis's eventual nod and soft, "Yeah, me too," that allowed Liam to finally give in to what his body wanted, and he fell asleep with Louis in his arms.

* * *

It was a real feat of strength that Liam managed to wait an entire hour after Louis left the next day before he texted him. _Heyyyyyyyy so I'd love to see that games room sometime soon :)._

The response from Louis came while Zayn was putting together different looks for his album shoot. Liam felt like a life-sized doll. _As long as you won't cry when I beat you at ping pong. Tomorrow afternoon maybe?_ Zayn watched over his shoulder while Liam grinned and shot off a quick answer. 

_We'll seeeeeeee about that!!!! Tomorrows good yay_

"That was quick," Zayn said, and Liam nodded, still smiling down at his phone. 

"Didn't know if he'd want to see me again, to be honest," Liam said, just as he got a text with an address and a bunch of emojis. He put away his phone and turned back to Zayn, ready to focus.

"Nice to see that Louis's not actually an idiot," Zayn said while flicking through a rack of shirts. "Try this one on."

What Louis really wasn't, as Liam discovered the next day, was someone accustomed to losing at anything. Even ping pong. 

"I don't believe this," Louis muttered as Liam hit another shot past him, now one point away from winning yet again. He shook his paddle at Liam. "Are you sure you're not a ringer?"

"Well, if I hadn't gotten on X Factor I might have pursued my Olympic table tennis dreams," Liam said. "Your serve."

"I knew it," Louis said, rolling the ball over his paddle. "It's not really my fault then."

"If that makes you feel better," Liam said, responding instantly when Louis served, smashing the return back and just clipping the side of the table with his shot. "Another game to me!"

"Oh come on!" Louis raised his arms up, looking off to the side. "How does that even count?"

"There's no ref to plead your case to here, Tommo!" Liam cried, his fists held above his head. "And the crowd goes wild for Payno!"

He laughed and then quickly stopped when Louis slammed the flat of his paddle down on the table. "Are you accusing me of diving for fouls?" Louis demanded, brandishing the paddle at Liam like a sword, a smile threatening to break through the scowl on his face. "Because you'll pay for that!"

Liam held up his hands in mock surrender. "No, of course not! At least not on the pitch, you don't need it there. Too bad you can't beg for a ref's decision here, though," Liam said, his heart pounding from how Louis was watching him. He stared back at Louis, setting down his paddle carefully.

Even so, he was unprepared when Louis suddenly dashed around the table and leapt up onto Liam's back, wrapped both legs around Liam's waist, and smacked him on the arse with the paddle. Liam had just enough balance to stumble over to the large leather sofa and attempt to dump Louis onto it. Louis held on like a monkey with his legs, twisting and pulling Liam down on top of him while still whacking Liam's bum with his paddle. "Who's winning now," Louis said a little breathlessly, staring up at Liam who had wound up between Louis's legs. 

Braced up on his knees, Liam reached behind his back and managed to catch both of Louis's wrists in his hands, pulling them up above Louis's head to stop the attack. "Me again, I think," he said triumphantly. 

His victory was rewarded when Louis made a small noise and strained up to kiss him, all of the passion of the game suddenly shifting entirely. Liam kissed him back and ground down against him, Louis's legs still locked around his waist. He let go of one of Louis's wrists, wanting to touch him everywhere, but Louis broke the kiss, shaking his head. 

"No, keep holding me," Louis said, staring up at Liam. Louis arched up against him when Liam carefully encircled his wrist again. "Yeah," Louis breathed out, and Liam had to kiss him, his hips thrusting against Louis, dick hard and trapped in his pants. 

He wanted to adjust himself, needed to take Louis's clothes off and get to his bare skin, but Louis was already shaking beneath him, making desperate little choked off noises into Liam's mouth, and he couldn't stop. His grip on Louis's wrists was so tight he was sure it must hurt; he was waiting for Louis to push him off, to tell him it was too much. 

But Louis just kissed him harder, legs curled around Liam's body, the sheer strength of them enough to keep Liam where he was. He was suddenly desperate to come, his hips thrusting and jerking against Louis's, pressing down on Louis's wrists against the soft leather of the sofa. The twist and pull of Louis under him was enough to finally make him lose it, his breath coming in harsh gasps against Louis's lips as he came in his pants, feeling wet and sticky and helplessly turned on. 

He tucked his face against Louis's neck and bit down as Louis continued to grind up against him, his voice going up in a soft, high-pitched whine until he shuddered and squeezed around Liam's leg in a vice grip. Liam had to let Louis's wrists go then, had to cup Louis's face in his hands, to hold him close and kiss him as he slowly stopped shaking. 

As they both cooled down, the mess in his pants became harder and harder to ignore, especially when Louis snaked a hand between their bodies and cupped Liam's softening cock. "Feel like a teenager again?" Louis whispered, kissing Liam again before he could answer. 

Eventually Liam pulled away and nodded. "Yeah, although at least I'm not worried about getting caught by anyone's mum." 

"My mum did say she might visit today," Louis said. 

"Louis, don't," Liam said firmly, resolutely pushing aside the mental image of him introducing himself to anyone, but especially Louis's mum, while in his current state. 

Louis grinned at him, pleased. "Well, if you don't fancy spending the rest of the afternoon with your willy stuck to your pubes, you can borrow a pair of trackies." 

Fifteen minutes later he was clean and wearing Louis's clothing while stood at the island in Louis's kitchen, watching Louis make them both tea. Liam's messy pants and jeans were already in the wash, Louis having insisted that it was no trouble to throw them in with his, and Liam felt warm and taken care of even before he had his first sip of tea. 

"As I was saying, wasn't very nice of you," Louis said, blowing across the top of the tea. "Not telling me about your ping pong skills."

"There are loads of things you don't know about me," Liam said. "I'm very mysterious."

"Hmm," Louis murmured, his eyes smiling at Liam over his mug of tea. 

"Here's a question for you, though," Liam said, finally giving voice to what he'd been wondering for weeks. "Why did you come out? When you did, I mean."

He waited as Louis took a sip of tea and set his mug down. "I thought if I came out after Euros that it'd actually be about me, for once."

"What do you mean?" How could it not be about you? Liam thought but didn't ask. Isn't that the whole point?

Louis laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Team comes first, mate. If I'd done it in the spring, it would have taken the focus away from our League run, and if it was during the summer I'd have been a _distraction_ for England. But this way, I dunno. It was just on me, as much as anything ever is. And besides, I was never going to have more goodwill than I did right then. No one could yell at me that much." He cracked a smile. "And if Wenger wanted to get rid of me before the season properly started, he could have done." 

Liam stared at him. "You didn't think he really would though, right? After last year?"

Louis shrugged. "I hoped he wouldn't. That's practically the same thing, isn't it?" He flashed a smile that was sharp as knives. "You're right though, I should have given him more credit." 

"I'm glad you did. Come out, I mean," Liam said shyly. 

The smile on Louis's face changed. "Me too," Louis answered. Quick and fierce, he came around the island and kissed Liam. 

When Louis pulled away, still smiling at him, Liam licked his lips and tried to refocus on the conversation. "I just. I've never really had a reason to come out, except to like my family and people who actually know me. And like, it's no one's business, not really," he said, stammering and nervous. 

Louis hummed and kissed Liam again, more gently this time. "No one should come out before they're ready."

"Yeah," Liam said weakly. Because that wasn't quite it, the idea of being ready. He still just couldn't believe that anyone would actually care about him, not like they did about Louis. It was ridiculous and a bit scary, all at once. And what if people did care, but in the wrong way? He'd had a few mates from back home who hadn't responded all that well, and while he had tried to listen to Zayn and Harry and just forget about them entirely, there was still a dull ache in the centre of his chest whenever he thought about how they'd looked at him after. It was them that were the problem, not him, or so he'd told himself; but it was hard to remember that when he'd been the one who'd been left. 

He was about to try to express some of that when his phone beeped. "Oh fuck, I've got to go—I'm meeting with Jamie tonight to go over a new song," he said apologetically after checking his calendar alert. "I don't suppose my clothes are ready yet?"

Louis shook his head, stepping away easily. "You can come back over and pick them up soon," he said, tipping his chin up in invitation. 

Liam kissed him firmly before pulling away. "Count on it."

* * *

"Soon" ended up being rather optimistic, as it turned out.

For all that they lived in the same city, it felt like they were in different countries entirely, or at least that their schedules were. If Liam could manage to carve out a spare three or four hours between meetings and time in the studio, then Louis was at an away match in Manchester, or training with the national team for upcoming qualifiers. 

So it was fortunate that they had already been in the habit of texting often, and that it was so easy to pick back up again, because that seemed to be the main way they could communicate. Liam was usually crap at texting—his sisters were always scolding him for not responding to texts for full days, just because he forgot—but with Louis, it was harder not to respond as soon as he saw a notification. Louis sent him pictures of the training grounds and the view from the motorway to and from matches, sometimes selfies but more often not. And Liam sent him back photos of the studio and sometimes, if he was feeling particularly bored and a little naughty, the suits in the endless meetings he seemed to be stuck in for hours. 

It was almost like he got to narrate his day to Louis, one text at a time. Any stray thought or feeling became something to share with him. He was always checking his phone now, and he tried not to be rude about it, but it was hard to stop. It felt like before Liam had fucked everything up in the summer, only better, because now he was guilt-free when he thought about Louis during a wank. 

The only bad part was that now he knew what he was missing, how much better the real thing was than he could imagine. He knew he'd get to see Louis again at some point, but they both seemed to be booked solid constantly. 

He was on a rare break one afternoon, enjoying a spare hour before he was meant to meet Jamie in the studio, when Louis texted him. _Knackered from the drills this morning, ahhhhhhhhhhh_

Liam's day was already better. _Got to keep fit tommo!!!!_

Apparently a quick response was all Louis had been waiting for, because Liam's phone immediately rang. "Hi, Louis," he said, a bit hesitant to actually be talking for once. 

Louis had no such concerns. "You text a guy for a little sympathy and instead you just get criticism," he said, grumpy and loud and the best thing Liam had heard all day. 

"How are you going to stay best in the world if you don't keep working hard?" Liam asked reasonably. 

"You want to be my trainer, then?"

Liam laughed. "Pretty sure Niall's got that covered, babe."

"Not for everything," Louis said, his voice low, and Liam's mouth went a little dry. "Where are you?"

"At home for a bit, heading over to the studio in half an hour," Liam said. "Perfect timing, really." He hesitated again. "What's up?"

Louis sounded softer when he finally answered. "Nothing much, just figured it might be nice to actually talk," he said, sounding uncertain for the first time. 

Liam smiled down at his feet. "Yeah," Liam said softly. It _was_ nice, actually getting to hear about Louis's week, and to tell stories that would have been a bit too much for a series of texts. It was nice to have the reminder of what Louis sounded like when he was laughing at Liam for being a bit of an idiot, fond and knowing and warm. 

He kept his eye on the clock periodically throughout the call, but he still managed to let it go on too long, not ready to ring off. Finally it got to be too late. "Shit, I've got to go, I've already kept Jamie waiting," Liam said apologetically. He hesitated, not sure if this was too much. "I could phone you back later tonight?"

"It's alright, I need to go anyway," Louis said, and Liam told himself it was silly to be disappointed when they'd already talked for forty-five minutes. Then Louis added, "And tonight will work, if it's early. I've got a morning practice again tomorrow."

Liam grinned helplessly. "I'll text first?" he asked.

"Perfect. Hope the album's going well," Louis said. 

Liam forced himself to simply answer, "It is," and then say goodbye. He was late enough already. 

The album was going well, though. Things were down to the wire now, final decisions about the art and track list and the production on each song being made daily, conversations with the label and his management team filling what seemed like every hour of the day. Still, he knew he was lucky—he was being given time to get each piece of it right, and even to include a new song that just wouldn't leave his head. 

He was also lucky that his team were so understanding. It was more than he deserved, sometimes, but he wouldn't argue. "Sorry I'm late," he said as soon as he walked into the studio, Jamie already sat in front of the keyboard. "Couldn't get off a call."

"Business or personal?" Jamie asked, casually enough. 

Liam was shit at lying. "Personal."

"Did that conversation help you write this song?"

Apparently he was also the least subtle person alive. "Um, yeah," Liam said, feeling his face flush as he flipped his phone around in his hand like a mic. 

Jamie just nodded. "Let's go, then."

* * *

Zayn was willing to be indulgent when Liam kept grabbing for his phone in the middle of prep for a photo shoot, but he drew the line at letting Liam keep the phone in his pocket while they were taking pictures. "It ruins the line of your jeans, and besides," Zayn said, as he ruthlessly confiscated Liam's phone, "a little suspense is good for a relationship."

Liam was certain that this had gone from being a little suspense to way too much of it, though, even if he talked to Louis more days than not. He'd even managed to see Harry again before he saw Louis, which was a minor miracle given Harry's own schedule. It was great to see Harry, of course, but it was hard not to spend the entire time talking about Louis. 

"You been back to the Emirates this season?" Harry asked, taking a picture of their lunch for instagram. 

Liam shook his head. "I don't want to be a distraction."

Harry looked at him, with that steady gaze that always made Liam feel like Harry was trying to read his mind, and was maybe succeeding. "You're a good distraction for him, Liam."

He had a hard time believing that, usually. While Louis was the definition of a good distraction for Liam, it seemed mad to imagine such a feeling reciprocated; Louis must have far more important things to think about. But then Louis would ring him and say he only had fifteen minutes but wanted to call anyway, and Liam would think _maybe._

One thing that was definitely true was that they were both running on empty. "We're heading to Spain tomorrow," Louis said one day. 

"Champions League, yeah?" Liam asked, curled up on a sofa in the lounge of the studio. 

"Yeah, and then we've got a home match three days later. Because unlike you and your cushy pop star life, I am constantly overworked."

"I know," Liam said, because he did.

"Oh for—I was joking, Liam." Louis sounded fond and a bit sad. "I didn't—never mind."

"Is it always like this, for you?" Liam asked. "Because for me, things should be getting a bit better once the album's actually finished."

Louis was quiet for a moment. "Not always, I guess? England'll have a couple months off from qualifying matches after November, at least, and there's a winter break in Champions League play. But it's a full season, even without all that."

Apologising felt like it'd be the wrong thing to do for someone who was living his dream. But Liam was a bit sorry for how tired Louis sounded already. Before he could figure out what to say that would sound less like pity and more like understanding, Louis went on. "I don't know if you'll be in London this weekend, but the match on Saturday should be a good one, if you'd like to come? I could get you and whoever comps, of course."

"Yeah, that'd be smashing," Liam said, after running through his mental calendar.

"And then, if you're free on Sunday," Louis said hastily, "I thought you might like to come over for dinner. I still have your clothes," he added, voice getting a bit low again.

It would require rescheduling a few things, but Liam was beginning to learn that if he didn't demand time for himself, everyone else would snatch it up without compunction. "Sunday for dinner. It's a plan."

"It's a date, you mean," Louis said, sounding significantly cheered. 

Liam smiled and looked down. "Yeah, I do."

* * *

_September_

It felt rather different to be watching as a—as a boyfriend, or whatever. 

There was a sense of pride and ownership and wanting that went far beyond his budding love of Arsenal, or even the way he'd felt watching England play in France in the summer. He wanted Louis to do well for Arsenal, of course, but most of all he wanted Louis to do well for him. It was all so much more personal. 

Of course, it was also different to be tracking him on the pitch after having seen him throw a fit over ping pong, to see the athlete take the fore. He felt a fierce pride in seeing his private Louis in his element, strong and confident and sure; it was incredible to think that he was the only one in this crowd that saw anything more than Tommo the footballer. There was a small piece of this match that was just for Liam. 

He glanced over at Zayn, still somewhat surprised that he had wanted to come along; Zayn's personal interest in football typically fell far short of attending a game, but this time he'd said yes immediately

"Would be nice to see in the flesh what's caught so much of your attention," he said. Even though he was obviously joking, Liam felt a pang of guilt. Surely he could do a better job of balancing everything. 

Nothing could tear his focus away from Louis now, though, the way he cut through Aston Villa's defence, a lovely bit of touch and go and a good look at the goal. The keeper made a fantastic save, just getting his hand on it and deflecting it up and out for a corner. 

"Close," Liam said under his breath, his fists clenched. 

"I guess he's not half bad," Zayn said, grinning at Liam when he looked over at him. "Worth a few quid."

Liam was going to joke back, but then Walcott curled the ball in from the corner, Louis just getting his head on it and sending it in down low for a goal.

The sound from the crowd was echoed in Liam's ears, his own roar filling his chest. He got Zayn in a hug, turning back to the pitch just as Louis jogged past the stand, pointing up toward where they were sitting. 

Liam's entire face felt hot and flushed, a buzzing in his stomach as they resumed after the goal. His hands were shaking, a bit, and suddenly tomorrow felt ages away. Far too long.

But there were sixty minutes left to play, and if he couldn't have exactly what he wanted this very moment, he could watch Louis play for him.

* * *

He brought a bottle of wine and a box of Italian pastries and a stomach full of nerves the next night.

Louis seemed delighted by his contributions to the meal, and the kiss he gave Liam as soon as he opened the front door did a lot to calm him down. "Hi," Louis said, and kissed him again. 

"Hi," Liam echoed, beaming. 

"Come on in, dinner's almost done."

Liam followed him in. The long table in the dining room was already ready, two places set at one corner, and the kitchen was filled with the rich, delicious smell of garlic. Liam put the wine and pastries down on the sideboard and walked into the kitchen. "Smells great."

Louis flashed him a grin and opened the oven, pulling out what looked like chicken parmigiana. "Should taste great, too."

Liam looked at the salad sitting on one of the counters next to a basket of garlic bread and a covered bowl of spaghetti. "Did you actually cook? You didn't need to, you're so busy."

"Course I did," Louis said, setting the chicken on top of the hob. He wasn't looking at Liam when he said it, a little smirk on his face, and Liam moved in next to him. 

"You're sure I won't find takeaway cartons in the bin?" he asked, kissing the side of Louis's neck. 

"I am insulted you would even think I wouldn't spend all day cooking for you," Louis said, turning to Liam with a mock disappointed look on his face that turned back into a smile when Liam showed him the empty takeaway container that had been on the kitchen counter. "Fine, ruin all my fun."

"You did heat it up again," Liam said, unable to stop grinning. 

"I did, and with extreme skill," Louis agreed. 

"One of the best at using an oven in England, so I've heard," Liam said. 

Louis punched him in the shoulder. "And don't you forget it. Give us a hand getting it out to the table?" 

The food might not have been homemade, but Louis's taste in restaurants was definitely exceptional; it was some of the best Italian Liam had ever had. But the food could have been barely edible and he wouldn't have noticed. All he cared about was that at last he had Louis close enough to touch, that he got to see for himself the way he made Louis smile. It was difficult to pay enough attention to his food to actually eat it, since his hands kept straying from his fork and knife to touch Louis's shoulder or thigh instead. 

"Do you know, Marco actually thinks I have a shot at breaking in America? Or at least they keep telling me so," Liam said, feeling pleased and shy all at once.

"If Americans can be bothered to watch football, they'll certainly be interested in you," Louis said stoutly, taking a sip of wine. "They should bring over the best."

Liam shook his head. "Yeah, I guess after Harry there's more of an interest or something."

"Or you're really good," Louis said. "Harry's great, but he's not going to sell utter rubbish." 

"Thanks," Liam said. He picked up his glass. "To not being utter rubbish."

"A worthy toast," Louis said. His cheeks were flushed from wine and maybe something else, and the look in his eyes was hazy but intent. "You're almost done recording, then?"

"Yeah, I've got one more session with Jamie tomorrow, and then it's just gotta get mixed and all that," Liam said. "A bit last minute, but that's what happens when you write a new song at the final hour."

"The mysterious new song. I really want to hear it," Louis said softly, putting a firm hand on Liam's knee.

Liam swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I could tell you about it, for now?"

Louis shook his head and tipped back the rest of the wine. "I can wait."

Well, maybe Louis could wait, but Liam found that he couldn't anymore. He leaned in for a kiss, cupping Louis's face with both hands.

The rest of dinner forgotten, they stumbled up the stairs to Louis's bedroom together, almost tripping each other in their haste. Over the past weeks Liam had started to feel like he'd never get to have his hands on Louis again, and now that he did he couldn't stop touching him, clinging to Louis as they fell onto Louis's bed. 

They'd only just got started and Liam was already hard and desperate and clutching at Louis's arse as they rutted against each other. There was no finesse in anything he did; it was beyond him. He kissed Louis hard and arched into his hands. He just wanted to get as close to Louis as he could.

Then Louis broke away from his mouth and said, voice needy and certain, "You should fuck me." 

Liam's breath stuttered. "Are you sure?" he asked, stunned. He hadn't known what to expect, what Louis would want, or even how to ask, but Louis had taken that worry out of his hands. 

Louis nodded and kissed Liam again. "I want you to, please," Louis said, so sincere and open it was disorientating. Of course, then Louis made a grab for Liam's nipple and gave it a wicked twist. "Unless you're not up for the challenge," he continued with a smirk on his face, and suddenly Liam was on firmer ground once again. "Think you're strong enough to plow the saviour of English football?"

"You have got to stop believing your own hype," Liam said, pulling his shirt up over his head and starting on his jeans. 

"I can't help it, my mum keeps sending me articles," Louis said, making quick work of his own clothes.

"Please don't mention your mum right now," Liam said plaintively. Louis laughed at him and grabbed lube and a strip of condoms out of his bedside table.

Liam forgot all about Louis's mum and his own name and everything else not here on this bed when Louis slicked his own fingers, spread his legs, and lazily slid a finger into himself. His eyes, focused intently on Liam, were bright. "Enjoying the show?"

Liam could only nod. Transfixed, he ran his hands up and down Louis's powerful thighs and watched as Louis arched his hips up before fucking down onto his own fingers. Louis let out a little gasp and a breathless laugh as he tipped his head back, the movement of his body just as fluid and graceful here as it always was on the pitch. 

It was too much for Liam to bear; he had to bend over and kiss the laughter out of Louis's mouth. Louis dragged one of Liam's hands down to his dick, flushed and hard. "Give us a hand?" Louis asked, and bit down on Liam's lower lip before kissing him again.

More than willing to do as he was told, Liam braced himself on one elbow and used his free hand to wank Louis off, staring down at his face the whole time. He was aching for someone to touch his cock, but he was too entranced by the smooth glide of his hand over Louis's dick to do anything about it. Finally, Louis made an impatient noise and batted Liam's hand away. "I'm too close," he panted, slipping his fingers out and fumbling for a condom. 

Liam got the condom on as quickly as he could and then hitched Louis's hips up, holding Louis's legs back with his hands. The moment he slid inside Louis was almost too much, the feel of Louis's body hot and clutching around him, his hips already driving him forward. He tried to wait, tried to give Louis time to adjust, but Louis wasn't having it. "Come on, put your back into it," Louis demanded, and gave Liam's bum a good slap, like maybe Liam wouldn't. But Liam needed no further encouragement, thrusting in hard and fast, his arms supporting Louis's legs as he fucked him. 

They fell into a rhythm as easy as breathing, Louis following Liam's lead at first and then dictating the pace with his hands clutching Liam to him. On each thrust in Louis gasped out a hitching moan, his breath hot on Liam's neck, and Liam never wanted to stop hearing that sound. He was braced up on his elbows, Louis bent nearly in half beneath him, practically no space between their bodies. They moved slick and hot against each other, Louis's cock sliding against Liam's belly as they rocked together. 

When Liam came it caught him by surprise between one breath and the next, Louis's hands gripping his shoulders firmly as he thrust in once more and stayed there, shaking. He was holding Louis's hips so hard that there would be bruises there the next day, but he couldn't let go yet, still riding out his orgasm. Louis let him collapse for a bit, stroking his hands up and down Liam's sweaty back, but before long Louis was squirming on Liam's half-hard dick and panting, "Liam, your hands, come on."

Liam pulled out slowly, not bothering to deal with the condom before pushing two fingers back inside Louis, who was still slick with lube. He crooked his fingers up and kept them there when Louis moaned, his legs shaking. Only then did he finally wrap a hand around Louis's cock again, giving it a few strokes before taking it into his mouth. 

Louis came an instant later, his hands painfully tight in Liam's hair. Liam swallowed again and again. Everything was messy and wet and exactly what he wanted. All he could smell was Louis and sex, and he closed his eyes and kept sucking on the head of Louis's cock until Louis, still struggling for breath, pulled him off. 

Liam barely managed to get the condom off before he flopped over onto his back next to Louis, pulling him close against his chest, shivering as the sweat on his body began to cool. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

* * *

Two days later Louis was in Germany and Liam was once again living in meetings.

The calls helped. It always helped to hear Louis's voice and get a few moments to focus on something other than how important every decision he made for the next three months would be. It was a relief to hear about someone else's life. 

Still, he willingly did most of the talking the following week, when he spoke to Louis after a disastrous draw at home to Poland in the World Cup qualifiers. That night he was more than happy to prattle on about final decisions on album art and his first video. "We're meeting in two weeks to start discussing tour logistics, though. At least I know something about that," Liam said.

"Ready to be on the road again?" Louis asked, sounding a bit distant. 

"Ready to perform again, at least," Liam said after a moment. "The travel just comes with that." 

Louis's voice sounded less heavy when he said, "Seeing the world isn't all bad, either." 

"It makes coming home that much better, too," Liam said, thinking of how it had felt when he'd come back to Wolverhampton for the first time in ages after the American tour, getting to eat his mum's cooking and go down to his dad's local with him again. It was starting to feel normal for Liam to be here in London, but it wasn't quite home yet, especially with Louis just a voice in his ear. 

It was like Louis knew what he was thinking about when he said, "I'm free tomorrow." 

There was a hopeful note to his voice, which made it even worse when Liam had to say, "I'm heading out for some European promo tomorrow—recording a few radio interviews."

"Oh," Louis said. 

"Marco says it's important," Liam said, trying to convince himself of that.

"I'm sure it is," Louis said, sounding much more certain. "I'll probably pass you in the air, then."

"Very romantic," Liam said. He hesitated a moment. "I have to run now, but if you're free tomorrow night, we could skype? Better than nothing, right?"

"Does 9 p.m. your time work?" Louis asked immediately. 

"Yeah," Liam said, feeling better already. 

By the next night, he was alone in a hotel room and desperate for it, desperate to at least see Louis's face on his computer and not just on the telly. He'd never liked facetiming or skyping with his sisters on tour, always feeling awkward and self-conscious, but when Louis's face popped up it made him forget everything else. 

"Hi," he said, suddenly at a loss for all the things he'd wanted to tell Louis all day, caught up in staring at him. Luckily Louis didn't seem to have any problem at all, in much better spirits today and making Liam laugh with every other word. 

"Did you finish that song?" Louis asked finally, after telling him about how they'd pranked a player getting his first national cap at the Poland game. 

"Oh! Yeah, the whole album's in the can," Liam said. "Now it's just time for promo and all that stuff. Got to sell it." It wasn't his favourite part of being a singer; it was long hours and lonely and boring, but he'd put up with a lot worse for everything else he got to do. 

"I can't wait to hear it," Louis said.

Liam hesitated. "I could send you the file? Jamie just emailed it to me. If you want."

"Yeah," Louis said quietly. "I know I said I'd wait, but—"

"You should hear this one," Liam interrupted him. It had come to him out of nowhere, a song about not having the words for what someone could mean to him. He'd been sure Jamie wouldn't go for it, would give him that look of _oh no._ But instead he'd asked Liam to sing out the melody he heard in his head. They'd hammered out the basic structure of it in a night. "I'll send it to you."

Louis called the next day while Liam was still on the flight from France to Italy and left him a message that Liam replayed five or six times. "Hi Liam, guess you're off jet-setting today too. Um, I listened to the song and it's—I'm really glad you sent it to me. Call me tonight if you can."

They facetimed whenever they could after that. Liam discovered that he couldn't keep from blushing when he wanked while facetiming, but that nothing made Louis happier than commenting on the colour spreading from Liam's cheeks down to his chest. It was Louis's words that brought Liam off, more than his own hand. 

It was better than nothing, loads better. But as days crept into weeks again, it got harder and harder to be satisfied with only texts and facetiming. 

"Do you check out Sugarscape or anything?" Liam asked during one call, home in London while Louis was in Poland for the second leg of qualifiers. 

"What do you mean?" Louis asked, cocking his head at Liam a little.

"I just. When you're away, I watch your matches. And your interviews, sometimes," Liam said, feeling a bit sheepish. "Do you..."

Louis gave him a fond look and finally said, "I just play your song on repeat, usually. When I miss you."

"Oh," Liam said, grinning helplessly. 

"Listen, I'll be back late tomorrow night," Louis said. "I know you've probably got a full Friday, but you could at least spend the night. If you want."

"I want," Liam said immediately. "Yes. Just text me from Heathrow when you land and I'll come over. I've got a one o'clock meeting on Friday but my morning's free." 

Even though Louis's flight wasn't scheduled to arrive until ten, Liam couldn't stop checking his phone every fifteen minutes starting at five. He was certain something would go wrong—a sudden weather change or the plane would be delayed due to mechanical issues or something else Liam hadn't even thought of.

It had been almost three weeks since they'd seen each other in person, and Liam was convinced that fate would intervene today, just to fuck him over.

He told Harry this over dinner, as he fretfully checked his phone for the tenth time in five minutes. 

"I don't think there are forces working against the two of you," Harry said thoughtfully.

Liam sawed at his steak with unnecessary force. "Distract me, Harry. You must have some new stories for me."

Harry gave him a grin, the one that meant Harry's month had been very exciting indeed. Liam resolutely ignored his phone and got ready for the gossip.

By the time Harry was finished, it was already nine and Liam was practically vibrating. He didn't get a text from Louis until half ten though.

_flight circled heathrow forever, should be home in 45. don't know if that's too late :(_

Liam texted him back immediately. _i'll be there, def not to late for me :))))_ He spent the next hour fretting about Louis, and whether he ought to just let Louis go home alone and straight to bed. But he was too selfish to reconsider driving over there, too desperate to get to see Louis's face in person again. 

When Louis opened the door to him, looking knackered and bruised under his eyes and more beautiful than Liam could even say, all of his doubt left him. He didn't bother saying hello, just stepped in and wrapped Louis up in a hug, kicking the door shut behind him and holding him tight. It was like he could finally stop running from one responsibility to the next, could finally stop for one second and just stand there and kiss Louis's neck and breathe him in. 

Suddenly, Liam could give in to his own exhaustion. Both of them were slow and a bit clumsy getting up the stairs and ready for bed; Liam practically fell into the bed, hardly able to move until Louis crawled in on the other side and curled up close. 

He finally kissed Louis hello, slow and sleepy. "Hi."

Louis kissed him back, mouth soft and warm. "Sorry, I'm just so knackered—"

"Go to sleep," Liam interrupted, kissing him again, one hand running through Louis's hair. "I'll be here in the morning."

Louis smiled at that, small and content, before his eyes slipped closed. 

It was easy to drop off after him, his body sinking into the mattress and moulding against Louis's side, comfortable and safe and warm.

* * *

Louis looked more like his normal self the next morning, his eyes bright and fixed on Liam's face as he blinked awake. "Enjoying your lie-in?"

Liam stretched out his legs and then let them melt back into the bed. "First one in a while."

"Only one way to make it better," Louis said, grinning at him. 

Still only half-awake, Liam smiled back, happy to echo Louis's mood even if he didn't entirely understand it. "Tea?"

Louis laughed and pushed down the duvet, getting Liam's pants off and his mouth around Liam's cock before Liam could respond with anything other than, " _Oh._ "

"Better than tea, I'd wager," Louis said, pulling off for a moment and stroking Liam's dick, looking up at Liam. 

He pretended to think. "Jury's still out, at the moment."

Louis squawked in protest. "It is _not,_ " he insisted, swallowing Liam down to prove a point. 

Liam let himself float through it, focusing only on Louis's mouth slowly dragging an orgasm out of him. He felt it build through his muscles, traveling up his legs and into his belly, while he ran his hands over Louis's head and the back of his neck. 

It was the best morning he'd had in ages already. Instead of thinking about his album or schedule or responsibilities, he only had to think about Louis and his bed, how Louis was making him feel. And when he finally came, long and slow down Louis's throat, Louis's fingers digging hard into his hips, all he could think about was making Louis feel as good.

He tugged him up the bed, kissing him deeply as he got his hands inside Louis's pants, stroking him off hard and fast. Louis panted into his mouth, his hips rocking up into Liam's touch. The feel of Louis's dick in his hands, hard and slick and hot, was perfect and exactly what he'd wanted for weeks. He kissed him over and over again as he wanked Louis off, just needing to make him come. 

Louis stilled for a moment before he shuddered and came, his hands gripping Liam's arms. They were both panting hard, Liam feeling the aftershocks of his own orgasm like it'd just happened. He wrapped his sticky hands around Louis's back and tugged him close for another kiss. 

Finally they both got their breath back. Louis's face was pressed up against Liam's neck, Liam's hand squeezing Louis's bum just because it was there and he could. There was a long silence, comfortable and content, and then Liam asked hopefully, "Tea now?"

He probably deserved the pillow he got in the face.

* * *

_October_

The rest of autumn got easier, after that. Liam wasn't trying to juggle quite so many plates at once, and while Louis was still playing away matches all over England, he only had one more trip to Europe before the end of November. Suddenly there was a bit of space and time for Liam to go to more home matches and for lazy afternoons spent together, feeling like they were getting away with something. 

As the drop date for Liam's album crept closer, he started having rehearsals again for promo concerts and appearances, with his return to X Factor the first and biggest. But that was the best kind of busy, working together with his team to put together the best show he could, every time. 

"I'm trying to make it different, like, so that if you only knew me on X Factor you'll see this and say wow, look at what he's done since then," Liam explained to Louis, curled up next to him on the sofa. They were meant to be watching The Great British Bake-Off, but he couldn't stop thinking of things he wanted to tell Louis. 

"Your sound's changed a lot," Louis agreed, running a hand over the top of Liam's shoulder. 

"Yeah, exactly," Liam said happily. "So like, my look has as well. Thanks to Zayn, of course." 

"Which weekend are you on it?" Louis asked. 

Liam hummed, running through the weeks in his head. "Week after next, I think?" Louis was quiet. "Did you want to come?" he asked, a bit hesitant. 

"I really do, but I'll be in Lithuania," Louis said. "Last qualifier before spring, and we've got to finish with a win." He sounded gutted and apologetic and absolutely not at all what Liam ever wanted Louis to sound like because of him. 

"Hey, it's okay," Liam said, squeezing his knee. "I'll record it, or ask twitter to send me a link to it on youtube. You'll get to see it."

"Not quite the same," Louis said.

"No, but unless things go really badly, it's not the last time I'll do something like that," Liam pointed out. "And besides, my proper tour will be loads better anyway."

"Oh, well in that case, I'd better not come then," Louis said, sounding much more like himself. "Don't want to ruin it for the future." 

Liam just kissed his shoulder, and then turned back to the telly. "What are they trying to make?" he asked, completely baffled. 

"I don't know, but it looks disgusting," Louis said in delight, and they settled in to see what Mary would have to say about that.

* * *

Liam loved being back at the X Factor, getting to see so many people who were still with the program and treated him like a nephew they hadn't seen in years, exclaiming over how big he'd gotten. But now it was even better with Zayn there as well, and Louis always only a text away.

The old nerves he could do without, though. He would be fine as soon as he actually got to go on, but being around the contestants brought back his stark terror, his certainty that this would be the week the whole country would realise their mistake and finally vote him off. He kept reminding himself that that was over, that he'd never have to survive that ever again, but his body wasn't convinced yet. 

Twenty minutes before his standby call, he found a quiet corner and rang Louis. He didn't think he'd actually pick up, but after two rings he heard Louis say, "Shouldn't you be on stage or something?" and his stomach finally calmed down. 

"Nah, I told them to wait a minute, I had a very important call to make," Liam said. 

"Such a diva," Louis said, sighing and laughing at the same time. "It's terrible the way you let fame go to your head."

"How would you know? Maybe I've always been like this. Had to get famous just to make it fit," Liam said. 

"Yes, that's clearly what happened. Time for you to learn some humility, Liam. I'll see if I can't introduce you to Rooney, I'm sure he'd be happy to give some lessons."

Liam couldn't stop grinning, feeling better than he had all day. He heard someone clear their throat and he looked up at Zayn, who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "Er, Zayn's come to collect me, I'm afraid."

"Yes yes, go on and do your job and stop being a terror," Louis said. 

"I'll call you later?" Liam asked, holding up one finger to Zayn and shrugging apologetically. 

"Probably can't talk late tonight, we've got to be up early tomorrow," Louis answered. 

"Tomorrow night?"

"I'll be pretty worthless, but I'll phone you if I can. Now go and get on stage, we'll talk later." Liam was about to say goodbye when Louis beat him to it: "Love you, bye," and then there was nothing. 

Liam pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the screen, his heart suddenly right back in his throat. "Everything alright?" Zayn asked.

Liam looked at him, feeling completely off-balance. "He loves me," he said dumbly. 

"Yes, and I'm very happy for you both," Zayn said, now physically herding Liam toward the stage. 

"No, but I mean, he just said it," Liam said. Or maybe he'd imagined it. Was it possible to hallucinate something like that? "And like, he hadn't before."

Zayn stopped short and Liam almost tripped as a result. "He does have a flair for the dramatic, that one."

"How am I meant to—I need to tell him I love him too!" Liam suddenly realised. 

"You can tell him after," Zayn said. "You're going on live now, remember?"

And Liam did remember; he knew that this was important for loads of people besides himself, everyone who was involved in his career. He took a deep breath, and then another. "Okay."

"Give over your phone and get set backstage," Zayn said, holding out his hand. 

"Thirty seconds, I promise," Liam said, sending off a text that consisted of _ilu2!!!!!!_ followed by every different kind of heart emoji in his phone. "There," he said, slapping it down into Zayn's hand. 

Zayn gave him a quick hug. "Do your thing, bro," he said, with that same quiet confidence as always. 

"I will," Liam said, and went to get his mic. 

The performance went better than any of the rehearsals had, Liam feeding off the energy of the crowd and giving it back to them with everything he had. He felt like a live wire, like his happiness was so powerful it could have exploded out of him without the music to focus it. It lit him up from inside, and he poured it into every note, letting his voice fly. 

When he finally got his phone back, Zayn was smirking at him. "You've got five minutes before we need to leave for the thing at Gary's," Zayn warned him, but Liam was so intent on his phone he barely heard him. 

_You are the most ridiculous human alive._

Liam beamed helplessly. _Yeh but you love me anyway :)_

_Yeah. I really do._

* * *

_November_

The album debuted at number one on the UK charts, which wasn't a surprise, and at number five on the Billboard 200, which was. Liam had needed to ask his manager about whether there might be a mistake three times before he believed it. 

The promo continued, interview after interview of the same questions, the same attempts at finding out if Liam was single and playing the field. Last year he'd been bemused but willing to play along. Now it just felt strange, to be seeing Louis any chance he got while deflecting every question about love. 

It just wasn't their business, he reminded himself, and gently tried to steer the conversation back to the universal theme of love in music, how every listener should be able to hear themselves in a love song.

He still felt like that even when he went on The Breakfast Show, up until the moment he didn't. 

"Is it a challenge, dating while you're so busy? Some pop stars seem to have a new girl every time we turn around, but not you," Nick said. 

"Well, you know, it is a bit hard to have time for girls in the middle of all this," he said, the same refrain he'd used all of last year. But it felt different this time, especially with Grimmy, whose expression didn't give away a thing. 

"Yes, I'd imagine it would be difficult, picking one out of the throngs surrounding you," Nick said jokingly. 

"Think you're confusing me with Harry, mate," Liam bantered back automatically, his head still swirling. "There's hardly a crowd of girls screaming for me wherever I go. And like, it's not really about having no time, to be honest," he added, mouth going faster than his brain could follow. 

"What's it about then, Liam?" Nick asked casually.

His face got rather less casual when Liam said, "Well, the fact that I'm dating a bloke, mainly."

"Liam Payne!" Nick said, his voice getting a bit squeaky. "Just a reminder that you are live on the radio! Are you telling us you're gay? Or bisexual, perhaps? Checking out all the fish in the sea?" He was staring at Liam, whose heart was pounding so hard but his head was totally clear. 

"Sadly not bi, sorry girls," Liam said, a bit sheepishly. It would probably be nicer if he could say that he was bi, less of an outright rejection; but if he was going to be out he was going to do it honestly. "Definitely gay. And there's only one lad for me at the moment." 

"How long have you and your boyfriend—boyfriend, can I say boyfriend? Okay—how long have you been together?" Nick asked, regaining his composure. "Give us the gossip."

"Um, three or four months, I guess?" Liam answered, looking down at his hands. "And yeah, it's been so wonderful, not really anything I ever expected. Not in a bad way at all, just—I never thought I'd meet someone like him," he finished, finally making himself shut up. 

"Well well well," Nick said. "Isn't this an exciting show. See, listeners of Radio One, this is why you've always got to tune in, never know when a pop star will be dropping by with a bit of news."

"Is Harry next, then?" Matt asked. 

"Oh, shut it, Finchy," Nick said, throwing a biro at him and grinning. "Be satisfied with one former X Factor star giving us a scoop, will you?"

The rest of the interview was nothing out of the ordinary, Nick steering the conversation back to his album and what it was like touring with Little Mix and his hopes for the next year. It was simple for Liam to fall back into his standard answers; he always had an easy time talking with Nick anyway, and there wasn't much more he could do to go off script than what he'd already done. His hands were shaking, a bit, but he thought he was covering it pretty well. 

When they went to play a record, however, he felt like he'd just run a marathon, vision a bit spotty and all. "Liam," Nick said quietly, sitting down next to him. "You know I wasn't—I was just doing the standard thing, there."

Liam shook his head. "No no, I knew you weren't trying to out me or whatever." He shrugged, feeling a bit light-headed, but with a growing, fierce sort of pride beginning to burst through. "I guess I just figured it was time I should do that myself."

Nick stared at him for a moment more and then laughed, patting his knee. "Well, I'm happy for you, mate, and I'm happy for _me,_ that you did it on radio and everything, and I hope you're ready for lots of meetings with your management, as well." He nodded at someone over Liam's shoulder, and Liam turned around to see Marco staring at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

This was it, then. He made his way over to him, ready to be yelled at, only to be wrapped up in a hug. "Well, if you didn't want to get a magazine cover out of it, I suppose I'll accept a news cycle while the album's still fresh," he said, and Liam sighed and hugged him back. 

"Wasn't really planned," he admitted, and Marco laughed. 

"I could tell," he said wryly. "But that's what you've got us for."

It was true; Liam had loads of people in his corner, and when he pulled his phone out of his pocket he had the texts to back that up: his sisters, Zayn, Harry, Perrie and Jade. His heart flipped a little when he didn't see anything from Louis, but then his phone rang while he was staring at it. 

"Have you absolutely lost your mind?" Louis asked with no other preamble. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to sell a story?"

"Marco yelled at me for the same thing," Liam said, pressing the phone hard against his ear.

"You've got to know how to get mileage from your love life, Liam! Celebrity 101," Louis said. 

Liam hesitated, his stomach full of nerves again. "I'll keep that in mind when I tell everyone who my boyfriend is, then," he said.

He held his breath until Louis responded. "Could just tweet at me or something," Louis said finally. "Take the media right out of it."

"I'll see you at home for dinner, honey?" Liam joked. 

Louis wasn't laughing when he said, "Something like that would do."

Liam swallowed hard. "I love you."

"No no, that's too much, even for you," Louis said quickly, and Liam huffed out a laugh. "But me too."

* * *

@LiamPayneXFactor: @louistommo thanks for the best four months of my life so far xo

@louistommo: @LiamPayneXFactor I'm just getting started babe.

**Epilogue**

_February_

 

"Oi, Zayn, bring your hair magic over here." Louis was stood in front of the hall mirror, fussing with his fringe. 

"Working on the actual star of the evening, Louis," Zayn said with no bite at all. He was almost done with Liam, though, just spraying his swept-back hair in place.

Liam snuck a glance at Louis, only looking straight ahead again when Zayn tapped his chin with one finger. "You've probably got time to do him too, Zayn, but I don't know what you're worried about, Louis."

"That's because you're an idiot," Louis said lovingly. "You always look great, and everyone loves you on the red carpet. But I'm your WAG tonight, and I need to look smart on your arm. So finish up with him and get over here."

"Didn't know you had added me to your payroll," Zayn said, but he stepped over to Louis. 

"Nah, you just do this because you love me," Louis said, and Zayn smiled and turned Louis around until he was facing the mirror again. 

Liam watched as Zayn sculpted Louis's hair, managing to curl his fringe up and over his forehead, giving him a whole new look. It went with his suit, somehow pulling together the whole ensemble. Getting his hair done by Zayn always relaxed Liam, but it turned out that watching him fiddle with Louis's hair was just as calming. 

Which was good, because Liam didn't think he'd been this nervous since the X Factor finale at Wembley, when he was certain that anything less than a victory would doom him to obscurity and failure. It would be nice if he could focus on how well that had turned out, rather than on just how big a night this was. 

But when Louis turned to him, looking beautiful and perfectly, amazingly calm, and asked, "Ready for the Brits?" Liam found that he was, really. 

He was ready while they rode in the back of the car together, Louis's hand holding his tightly. He was ready to say yes over and over again when Louis gave him assignments of words and phrases he had to use on the red carpet during interviews. And when the car pulled up at the red carpet, the flash bulbs of the cameras already going off before they'd even got out of the car, he knew the answer when Louis murmured in his ear, "You ready?"

Liam turned to him, gave him one final, slow kiss, and said "Yes," with all the confidence in the world. Then he opened the door. 

It should have felt a bit scary, being out there with Louis like this, in front of the cameras. Holding his hand, getting an arm round his waist for the pictures, figuring out the right angles for them both. As much as everyone had known Louis was his boyfriend for a few months now, he still should have wanted to vom all over his shoes from nerves. 

Instead it just felt— _nice._ Nice, and safe, and like he suddenly didn't have to be afraid, or feel lonely. It always felt a bit ridiculous to think of feeling lonely when he was surrounded by hundreds of people, and when Zayn and Perrie were talking to press nearby, and when there were loads of other people who he knew at least casually in sight. But none of them were there just for him like Louis was. 

He gave Louis's hand a little squeeze, looking over at him when Louis responded by elbowing Liam in the side. Marco had been quite firm that the red carpet was not the place for a slap fight, but surely it was acceptable to grab hold of Louis's wrist while wrapping his other arm tightly around his waist, pinning his other arm. "Think you can hold me, Payno?" Louis asked out of the corner of his mouth. 

Liam grinned, dragging his attention back to the interviewer's question. "Well, we actually were introduced by the host of tonight's festivities, as a matter of fact. So it's really Harry's fault."

"Isn't it always," Louis said, starting to wriggle and shift a bit. Liam made the tactical error of letting go of Louis's arm for an instant to wave at Harry, who was making his way over to them. 

"And here's the man himself," Liam said, just barely managing not to squeak when Louis's hand snuck down to pinch his bum. "Have you come to rescue me, Haz?"

"You're on your own, Liam," Harry said, as Louis's hand continued to poke and prod at him. Liam managed to snag his wrist with one hand behind his own back, pulling it until Liam was holding both of Louis's hands, Louis's arms both wrapped round Liam's waist. 

"I'll hold you this way all night if I have to," Liam said into Louis's ear. 

He had to let go a moment later, though, when the two of them were herded to the next set of interviews. But anytime he started feeling a little overwhelmed, his smile getting a bit more forced than he'd like, suddenly Louis's hands were worming their way up his sides, asking him to capture them again. 

Liam could never resist an offer like that.

* * *

Afterward, Liam could barely remember anything, other than the moment of hearing his name and then somehow stumbling his way up onto the stage. They were already in the back of the car on their way to the first afterparty, Liam pressed up close to Louis with one arm around him and one hand clutching Louis's, before he thought to ask. "Oh god, did I make an idiot of myself up there?"

Louis nodded immediately, patting Liam's knee with his free hand while still holding Liam's hand with his other. "A complete disaster, babe."

Liam groaned and dropped his head back against the seat. "I was out of my mind, I don't even know what I said."

"A load of total rubbish," Louis filled in, kindly enough.

Liam turned to Louis. He could just look it up on youtube later, but he should probably hear it from someone who loved him. "How bad was it?"

"Well," Louis said, his voice soft and gentle and oh god, it must have been awful if Louis was being this careful. "You started off by saying that you couldn't believe you'd won, given how amazing the rest of the nominated artists are." Liam nodded; that sounded familiar. "And then you thanked Jamie and Paul and Marco and Zayn and your entire family and were really shamefully earnest about the entire thing."

Liam frowned. That didn't sound too bad at all. 

"And then you actually mentioned me, which was inexcusably mushy of you, and you were obviously not drunk at all and didn't even babble on for overly long, and really it was completely appropriate and coherent and a total disappointment," Louis said, barely getting out the last of it because Liam was busy tickling him in retaliation. 

"I was worried, you twat," Liam said, giving up on the tickling and just holding Louis close to him. 

Louis patted his cheek. "What could you possibly have done that would be worth fretting over? You were brilliant, and now the media has a brand new title for you: 'First openly gay X Factor runner up to win a Brit.'"

Liam laughed. "Yes, that's much less terrible than 'first openly gay singer from Wolverhampton.' I don't even see how that could have been true."

"'First openly gay turtle owner' is even better," Louis said. "Or my favourite: 'First openly gay singer who spent an entire year wearing nothing but snapbacks.'"

"To be fair, they were in style back then," Liam protested. 

"Yes, everyone was wearing them in Soho that year," Louis agreed. "It's a wonder no one knew about you before me." 

"I am very mysterious, I told you that," Liam said, and Louis snorted out a laugh and kissed him.

Liam kissed him back, feeling the adrenaline of the evening finally begin to drain out of him. "We should just blow off this party," Liam said against Louis's lips. 

"Marco will be so disappointed," Louis answered before pulling him in for another kiss.

And, well, it was the truth. Liam pulled away. "No, you're right," Liam said regretfully, eyes focused on Louis's pink lips. 

Louis sighed. "Why do I ever talk you into being responsible?"

"I'm sure we can hold out for a coat closet while we're there," Liam said, feeling a bit cheeky. 

Louis grinned back at him just as they pulled up to the hotel. "You're on, Payne," he said, leaning in for one more kiss before opening the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to talk with me about Liam or Louis or 1d or football, PLEASE DO.
> 
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